My first Harvey

I was probably eight or nine years old.  I'd been quite good at learning the recorder and my reward was violin lessons.  I don't know what sadist made that link, but that's the way it worked at my primary school.

My parents played along and bought me a violin (which was an utter waste of money).

I think my violin teacher was called Mr Comely, a misnomer if ever there were one.  He was short, portly and had the complexion of a sweaty vampire.

I can't recall whether the lessons were one to one, but I remember I didn't enjoy them.  I didn't complain because mum and dad had bought me a violin which hadn't been cheap.  I mean it was a cheap violin but, apart from my bicycle, it might have been my most expensive possession.

I think the violin lessons took place in Miss Tilney's class.  I liked Miss Tilney and I think she liked me; she used to teach the Year 2 class and I used to pepper my writing with long words I'd selected from the dictionary in an attempt to appear intelligent.  She was strict but I never incurred her wrath.  

Mr Comely used to make me sit on his lap.  I can't recall why; why he insisted, why I complied, why I didn't tell anyone... but I can remember my reticence and my discomfort.  And I think that was the extent of it.  Thankfully I've never done any hypnosis and I'm OK with not remembering anything else. 

I could try and argue that this experience soaked into my psyche and is the reason I have failed at all future musical endeavours but, in truth, I've just never had any talent. 

The Weinstein thing has got my goat, it really has.  It's made me remember so many things that were just plain wrong, and it started very early.

Sexism in the forces? Surely not!

Hannah joined the Combined Cadet Force (CCF) through school a couple of years ago.

The meetings took place at the boys' school across the road and it all worked, until recently.

Last year, the teacher from Hannah's school who supported CCF, stopped his involvement to spend more time with his family.  The boys' school response was swift.

• No new girls were allowed to join.
• Girls had to pay a fee, and so did the boys, but the girls had to pay more.
• The start time was brought forward making it impossible for the girls to arrive in time meaning they miss "fall in" and "parade" every week.  They could still register, but they couldn't participate fully.
• All meetings about camps happened at the boys' school, during the school day making it impossible for the girls to attend.  The consequence of this is that they don't know camps are happening and don't participate.

Promotions were handed out recently and, in Hannah's year, none of the girls received a promotion.  With the number of promotions dished out, the girls didn't get their fair proportion, and Hannah believes the girls are far more attentive and capable than many of the boys.  Additionally, one of the boys promoted has very poor attendance.

This sounds like sex discrimination, and she's only 15.  I don't want to say "Suck it up, that's life." because it shouldn't be like this, but the Army won't listen to one whiny mother.  I'd like them to be forced to recognise their whole attitude is in no way encouraging girls into the armed forces.  I'd like equality.

An ordinary day in which I go out

I remembered to get some food out of the freezer the night before and pop it in the fridge.  Dave would need something when he got in and the children could have a snack because they'd had a main meal at lunchtime.

I remembered to take the homemade brownies out of the freezer the night before and cut them into slices and pop them in a cake tin.  It's much easier to get sharp edges when cutting gooey things before they've completely defrosted.

I remembered to check with Dave "You're OK to take Ethan to Scouts and Hannah to Explorers?" and I took the time to make sure he knew exactly which children needed to be where and when.  I offered to take Ethan to Scouts, in case it helped, but was told firmly that "No, I plan to get back in time to do that."

I woke up early at six and decided that getting out of the house and into work early would allow me to plan and feel happier about the "big meeting".

I remembered to take the brownies out to the car and when I got to work, I set up the meeting room (including moving the furniture around and checking the IT equipment), remembering to leave instructions about the WiFi, the teas and coffees and allergens in the brownies.

I remembered to get money from the cashpoint and collect some keys that had been cut for our desk drawers.

I spent the next couple of hours trying to talk to as many of the meeting presenters as possible trying to ensure everyone knew what they were going to be talking about or discussing.

Before the meeting I remembered to set up a Webex, and dialled in.  

The meeting didn't go to plan, but that's life.  All through the five and a half hours I could sense the notifications on my phone.  WhatsApp and Facebook going "ping" every few minutes with things I clearly needed to know.

After the meeting I tried to get to some of the presenters to provide reassurance or clarity or just to say "Thank you."

As I left work I checked my phone.  Lots of messages and not enough time, but somebody wanted to park at my house for the evening.

I drove home remembering to stop at the Post Office to send Dave's erroneously ordered Amazon purchase back from whence it came, because I'm nice like that.

Before I got back in the car I checked messages and said "Yes" to the friend that wanted a parking space.  Then I spotted another message; a different friend with the same request.  I needed to think about that before replying.

When I got home I remembered that Ethan was going to be late home because he was attending a meeting about cadet camps.  It transpires these were: two in Romania at £800 a pop and one in Morocco for £900 a pop.  I remembered I hadn't yet paid the deposits for the Scout Camp to Ireland.  

Assessing the parking situation once I was home, I reasoned that if I allowed one of my friends to block me in (that's OK, I didn't need my car) then both friends could park at the house and there would still be room for Dave.  I sent a second affirmative message re parking.

I checked my voicemail - someone at the insurance company wanting a call back.  I called and provided details over the phone about the stolen laptop and then followed up with an email.  And then there was a phone call.  Another agent appointed by the insurance company wanted to come and assess the damage to the front door and alarm system.  Appointment made for Friday afternoon.

I caught my reflection and tried to call the hairdresser several times with no reply.

I then remembered I was a bad friend to someone who could do with support right now.  On World Mental Health Day, the one thing I could do was make a call and plan to meet up.  Meeting for breakfast on a Friday, plan made.

I checked I hadn't booked a supermarket delivery, and I hadn't, so I realised I might just have time for a run.  Just as I was changed into running gear, Ethan arrived home.  We had a quick catch up and I closed the door with the instructions for him to do his saxophone practice, make a sandwich, eat it, get ready for Scouts.  I should have added tidy the bedroom but that's permanently on the to-do list.

On my first lap Ethan called.  I'm not a good runner, and expecting me to think, talk and run, is a stretch.  He told me my car was blocked in and that we would need extra time to get to Scouts.  I told him that "Dad was planning to get back in time."  We checked Dave's location, he was still at work but there was plenty of time for him to return.

On my second lap, Dave called.  Could I take Ethan to Scouts?

Amid a string of expletives, I confirmed that I could because, technically, I could.  And when I'm asked to do something like that, generally, I try and help.  Yes, my car was blocked in, but yes, Scouts is within walking distance if you have 60 minutes spare (30 there and 30 back).
  
I cut my run short and went home to find Ethan listening to music at full volume and eating a sandwich.  I sent him up to his room to change and popped the second half of his sandwich in a bag.

When he came down I said, "Right, we're running to Scouts."

I had a bit of an issue with Ethan running and trying to finish his sandwich at the same time.  As we passed the ambulance station I was yelling about the Heimlich manoeuvre and telling him that choking and suffocating is not a nice way to die.

Ethan arrived at Scouts early and I turned and ran and walked home.

Dave was at home when I got back.  He'd actually arrived home with plenty of time to have driven Ethan to Scouts.  And my car was no longer blocked in which made it look bizarre that I'd chosen to run to Scouts.

While I showered and dressed Hannah returned home from her weekly "revision" session at a friend's house.

Dave drove me and Hannah to Abi's house where we collected her and then I was dropped at the curry house for curry and beer, which I felt I'd earned.

I didn't sleep for long enough, I never do.  There's always something to be done, like a blog post.

Not so dirty pot noodle

A post shared by Ann Cardus (@a4ann) on Sep 22, 2017 at 2:44pm PDT

Do you hanker after Pot Noodle but deny yourself because you know they're full of things you shouldn't really be eating?

Here's a solution, a homemade pot noodle that's only a little bit dirty.

I don't think these should be made precisely so I'm going to give you a guide rather than exact measurements.

You will need:

• A pot of sorts with a lid, I use Kilner 500ml pots
• Ramen noodles
• Cooked meat - I use chicken
• Any old veg chopped up small - think red pepper, spring onion, peas and sweetcorn from the freezer, beans (green or otherwise)
• Flavourings.  I add a smidgen of the following: light soy sauce, Thai chilli sauce, fish sauce, rice wine
• Some leafy green stuff - I've used spinach and kale and preferred the former

If you can, prep in advance and store in the fridge.  Ideally, if you've used any frozen veg, you want it to have defrosted when you add the boiling water.  If you are preparing just before eating then ensure frozen veg is cooked.

In the bottom of the pot place half a pack of ramen noodles.  These are the ones I used: chicken flavour.  There are plenty of similar products and they often contain a packet of powder and sachet of oil.  Open these and sprinkle/drizzle half of these over noodles.  

• Add meat so that there's a rough layer on top of the noodles.  
• Add veg.
• Add whatever flavourings you fancy - don't overdo it.
• Add leafy green stuff until your pot is bursting.
• Store in the fridge until required.
• Five minutes before serving, add boiling water to near the top of the pot.  
• Seal the pot and leave for five mins
• Turn pot upside down a few times to mix all the flavours
• Serve in the pot or, if you're feeling a little more sophisticated, in a bowl

A post shared by Ann Cardus (@a4ann) on Oct 1, 2017 at 4:52am PDT