Today would be the late great Robert Nesta Marley’s 70th birthday.
Happy Birthday Bob Marley. What better way to celebrate than with this wonderful song that showcases the particular timbre of his voice which is utterly unique and about as soulful as I think it gets.
Go here for more songs, great photos, and a better article than I can put together, which is only what Bob deserves.
The youngest daughter turned nine today – just after 10 a.m. to be precise. On the day she was born she had an awful lot of her planets in the watery sign of Cancer: her sun and her moon for example. I need to check what her rising sign was because I have forgotten, for now. Anyway, she has proved to be a watery sort of person. We have eye-water daily, but it is like a brief cleansing of the tear ducts and then she moves on. It’s hard to believe that it was nine years ago she made her entrance into the world. My own has not been the same since.
It was Open Evening at school today – here is her black-headed gull. I was mighty taken with it. I suppose this post should’ve carried a proud parent warning sign – but there you go – too late now.
Artist’s note: the teacher made me go over the blue with grey to make it ‘exactly’ like the picture. I wasn’t very happy about that.
Mother’s note: I make the artist right.
They don’t look the same do they?
Anyway, today marks the occasion wherein my eldest daughter gets to celebrate the fact that in her first year I managed not to drop her on her head and in the second, I noticed she’d shoved a bead up her nose before too much harm was done; in the third I found her a playgroup from which her only memory is playing with a toy called a ‘Troll’… By her fourth year, I was getting the hang of it and enrolled her in school; in the fifth I enrolled her in another. In her sixth year we had mastered the art of doing her hair in a pineapple do and in her seventh I had managed to uncover her hidden talent for the waltz. In her eighth year I was still remembering to feed her, but by her ninth she could feed herself by making pancakes; her tenth year marked the occasion of her common sense often overtaking my own, and today, well, today she is celebrating by taking her SATS.
Funny how things go.
My youngest turned 8 today.
Being a parent is mundane and insane in equal measure and your life is no longer your own. Actually, I think the last part is the best bit, sharing the experience with others along the way, however it goes.
I think I’ve said it before, but I always find it fascinating that every day the children wake up looking the same as yesterday, but every year they have imperceptibly become different.
She asked earlier when she would be 7 again. Good question. Never and always, I reckon.
on my neon ageometer, so I am going where there is no internet to have a rest. This is my theme tune for life normally, but sometimes I need a break from my usual self.
I’ll be back when I’m 41.
That sentence is attributed to Graham Alexander Bell on March 10, 1876 as he made the first two-way transmission of clear speech through a device that was to become what we know as the telephone (far sound). How exciting far sound must have been back in the day.
A hundred years later in the 1970s when I was growing up it was still of interest if the ‘phone rang and engendered sufficient curiosity in our household that it would be picked up and answered 100% of the time (if we were in). After all it could be Important.
How then, has it come to pass some 35 odd years later that I have taken out the batteries of the handsets to the landline? Well it started like this. When the phone rang we would all stare at like a hand grenade had been thrown in the room. Who could it be? Back in the day it would only be someone with far off sounds, or someone you would like to talk to (mainly). Now it could be, well, anyone. And actually the percentage call would be that it wouldn’t be important, and it wouldn’t be anyone you wanted to talk to and it would probably be someone trying to sell you something that you didn’t want. And still don’t if you are thinking of calling me anytime soon.
The landline and its number is like the double agent in the house. You think it is your employ, but if you get onto enough cold-calling direct sales and marketing lists it will start working against you. You can be relaxing away and the phone rings. You answer, being as it might be your mother. It’s not. It’s someone trying to get you to answer pointless questions for a random survey, sell you life insurance, tell you your library books are overdue (recorded message), the man in Northern Ireland who wants a pint of blood off me, a double-glazing firm, a pebble-dashing firm, an energy supplier, a cancer charity wanting a direct debit and so on and on and on until you are scared to answer the two-way far sounds device. Send me an email I can ignore please.
So why bother with a landline? Because my grandmother, Helen, called from her landline; because she knows this number. Sometimes I sit on the stairs and call her number too, the last digits of which she has had since I was born and is one of the few phone numbers I know off by heart. But now my grandmother won’t call because she died in the summer. Her phone number no longer exists and, for now, I have taken the batteries out of my phone handsets because it’s easier that way.
This blog carries a self-indulgent big fat birthday blog warning, stuffed with tuneage and cakeage. If you read it you might get a hangover, or at the very least a slight headache…
Inauspiciously and unwittingly I started this blog 2 years ago today. The first year was more like a gestation period though, given that I only posted a handful of times. What better way to celebrate than with a boogie, even if I can’t follow the strictly disco brief I seem to have set myself. The quiet storm in me just keeps creeping in…
These are listed in the order I’d play them. Just as I don’t do matching, I can’t seem to do even numbers either.
Faithless – Insomnia
DJ Luck & MC Neat – You Show me Happiness / Tell me that it’s Real
Chic – Le Freak
Daft Punk – One More Time
Happy Mondays – Step On
David Guetta vs. The Egg – Don’t Let Me Go
Michael Jackson – Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough
Arrested Development – Mr Wendal
Fatboy Slim – Praise You
Billy Ocean – Red Light Spells Danger
Carl Kennedy ft. Roachford – Ride the Storm
Tavares – Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel
Underworld – Born Slippy
The Police – Everything Little Thing She Does is Magic
Marshall & Hain – Dancing in the City – as close as I can get to a slow song
Then very kindly, and most unexpectedly yesterday the Devon Home Cook whipped up enough cake to feed 70 readers. At the beginning of the blog experiment it would have lasted over a year. Now I am glad to say it would be done in a day, especially if some of us had double helpings 🙂
I fancied the King on his birthday, but I was over ruled by the girls.
Happy Birthday Little Sister x
May or may not be today, which would make him a Scorpio, like me – moody and introspective! Which is why I have retreated to Hundred Acre Wood for a quiet lie down whilst I turn 40 today. So you see, thanks to the wonders of modern online publishing and just to annoy James Murdoch, I am not actually online now -this is one I prepared earlier! In terms of birthday celebrations I was thinking along the lines of a burst balloon and empty jam jar, therein no disappointments, tears or tantrums…
Then when researching the image I wanted for today I came across Eeyore’s Birthday Party Yank-style, an annual festival fundraiser in Austin, Texas. Many of the images were a bit bare and body painted – nice. So I have a changed my plan a bit. Still the Hundred Acre Wood with the family, ditch the balloon, but as today is expected to be extraordinarily warm…
Photos to follow! In the meantime