The Teacher and The Pupil

I don’t get time to watch the news but I am hearing whispers about the Maths teacher and the pupil running off to France together. It is an absolute disgrace. It is wrong. A grown man or woman should not have a relationship of that nature with a child. If you are under 16 you are a child, yet you can actually get married at sixteen, pass your driving test at seventeen and let alcohol pass your lips legally at eighteen. Is any of that in the right order?

When I was growing up, I remember a true love story that was exciting, glamorous and romantic. Bill Wyman, a Rolling Stone, fell in love with Mandy Smith who was just thirteen when they started dating. He was an ageing but awesome rock star, she was a beautiful chick. I was of similar age to her at the time and wanted to be her more than anything in the world. At sixteen, she married her lover. It transpired years later that they had slept together when she was fourteen. As if we didn’t know that anyway. It was a hot story back in the 80’s. The two of them were on the Terry Wogan show, the Russell Grant show, radio stations, all over the newspapers and though people were shocked, it was accepted. The girl’s Mother encouraged it; I believe she even set the two of them up. 

A few years later one of my Arsenal heroes, Graham Rix, fell in love with a fifteen year old girl. The relationship ended, the girl got angry and bitter as dumped women do and he ended up in prison, was put on the sex offenders list and labeled a peodo.  His football career was ruined. Yes, what he did was wrong, totally wrong, but why did this happen to Graham Rix and Bill Wyman was considered a hero. Was it acceptable for Bill, just because he is a Rolling Stone? 

In other races and religions, children get married at 13 and are become mothers well before their 16^th birthday. What is right and who are we to judge?  At seventeen, I dated a 26 year old.  I was still a child myself.  What man can resist a young woman in her prime? There is such a fine line here. I believe that the men that get in trouble are the ones that break the hearts. Revenge is bitter! I think I am ashamed to say that I feel a little bit sorry for Graham Rix.  Well, he did get his comeuppance.  Really, guys, you need to stick with someone your own age!!!

I love my toy boy Benny, but I certainly would not have been attracted to him when I was twenty and he was fifteen. 

Curiosity killed the....Hysteria

It has become a reality and scares the living daylights out of me, in addition to my fear of spiders; Charlotte is going to school! Not until September 2013, but ther forms have arrived, tours of the lcoal schools have been booked and the politics and hissy fits have begun - and that's just me.  I swore I wouldn't turn into an obsessive Mum but our nearest school has a bit of a rubbish reputation and I don't work five days a week for my only child to have a crappy education. So, I will try hard and do whatever it takes to get Charlotte into a decent school. There is actually nothing I can do. I have no idea how we have avoided bankruptcy with the cost of nursery so private school is out of the question. Maybe the good schools need a token ginger kid. All I can do is hope or win the lottery. I must buy a ticket!

Education and the growing knowledge of children fascinates me. I recently repeated a story to Ben in front of Charlotte about little "Billy". Billy's parents were watching a Piers Morgan interview with Roger Moore. Roger was asked if he slept with his leading ladies. He answered that he loved the blow jobs!  Billy's Mum and Dad won't tell him what a blow job is which is the right thing to do. At nine he is too young but he is asking Grandma, the neighbours and anyone that will listen to tell him. I just hope that Charlotte does not go to nursery with the same question. 

I recently learned a new thing myself.  The definition of the word Hysteria.  It is the name of a medical condition from the 19th Century. This "illness" affected many women. These days it would called PMT or sexual frustration.  The Doctors would cure the ladies by giving them a hand job until orgasm was achieved.  Wow, I would have been a willing patient to Dr Tappin who was my yummy GP when I was in my twenties.  Well, in the eighteen hundreds the Doctors did not get aroused by this. In fact, they got bored and developed tennis elbow, until the invention of the first Vibrator. To think that dildos were an electoral feather duster that  had gone wrong. I look forward to watching the film, Hysteria with the Inventor of the first sexual toy played by the very lovely and dapper, Rupert Everett. Ladies, it's one to watch.

Get me to the Church on time...

I had a truly fabulous time at a glorious Essex Wedding. I just can't stay out of the county at the moment and I still haven't bumped into Mark Wright.  The September sunshine allowed the ceremony to take place in a beautiful English garden of a classy Country Manor.  The guests looked stunning, the fascintors were colourful and I couldn't help noting a few pairs of Leboutons. I felt like I was witnessing Brad and Angie getting hitched and was looking out for the helicopters above but they were obviously out trying to get a glimpse of Kate M iddleton's boobies (disgraceful!). I needed a pee so badly throughout, thank god the pelvic floors have improved a bit since I have been bouncing  on my trampette.

The Canopes were pretty special as the bride and groom had their pics taken in the beautiful setting that is Braxted Park. I should have eaten more but was too busy to speaking to my new best friends!  I did however manage to fit in quite a lot of champagne that was flowing and flowing and flowing. The eight of us that formed a little group of loud and gobby recruitment consultants were getting pretty pissed. We desperately needed some food to soak up the alcohol that we were consuming quite rapidly. 

Our table, named Leeds Castle (nice touch Dave, after my wedding venue!!) forgot all about etiquette and wolfed down the bread rolls long before the delicious chicken and ham terrine arrived. The beautiful centre pieces of the tables were delightful and thank goodness included some grapes and apples as we were more than a little bit peckish before dinner. We weren't sure if we were meant to look at the fruit or eat it, but it was very yummy.

The food was amazing and very pretty - noveau cuisine  - is it still called that?  Gordon Ramsay would have been ;proud. The wine and champagne continued to flow. I have never been to a wedding with such generous portions of booze. 

Dave the groom looked nervous but dapper.  The Bride looked truly stunning, young, fresh faced, happy and in love. I think all women should be over 30 when they marry. It should be the law.  Rebbecca looked around eighteen in her bridal gown.

The Father of the bride said some nice words. I must learn from this as am doing the "Father of the Bride" speech at my Sister's wedding in two weeks time. OMG. I have to write a speech, rehearse it and lose around half a stone in a fortnight. EEEEKKK.

Dave showed off his true talents and sense of humour in top form.  Dave is a cross between Frank Spencer and Frank Skinner and I would pay to see him to Stand Up Comedy.  the Best Man's speech was not the worst in the world and Dave was a hard act to follow and I was truly interested in how long the emails were during the on-line courtship of David and Rebecca. He did very well.  Anyway it was time to dance!

Ben and I cadged a lift back to our hotel from my boss and his wife, who happen to be good and longstanding friends. Our five minute journey took more than half an hour.  Oh Satnav, why do we rely on you so much?  All we had to do was turn right and left and we would have been there not driving around some little dark Essex village and around and around then getting directions from the hotel porter and still got dropped off the wrong side of the A12. It was past midnight and there I am climbing over the central reservation with my dress hoisted up over my knickers.

We had a great time and David and Rebecca will have a wonderful future together that will last forever. I did ask Dave the next day if he had done "it" and he neither denied or confirmed. I am intrigued by the question of how many people shag on their wedding night. Apparently its only 17% according to my Battle of the Sexes Sex Quiz that I used to host when I was a Twentys Rep. I am ;proud to say that I am part of that 17% - shame I don't see much action these days, I better get that quiz out again from the loft.

Night night, time to start thinking about that speech...

Confessions of a Holiday Rep/Recruitment Consultant/Frumpy Mum....

Okay, so the week started out on a bad footing. Sunday Evening and Charlotte was settled nicely at Grandma’s. Ben and I had a peaceful and pleasant time watching the Paralympics Closing Ceremony. We were in bed around 11.30pm, pretty late for us. Half an hour later, Ben sat on the loo with liquid squirting out of both ends. I was livid at first thinking it was the result of one too many Fosters in the sun, then panicked in case it was from the BBQ at Grandma’s (god knows what she used to light the goddamn thing)! We would all be poisoned!! Actually, poor Ben was in a bad way and definitely had some kind of horrible bug. As he settled back to bed, our new neighbours, students from Betty Laine’s Dance school came back from the pub with about 100 of their friends. This quiet residential family street in Epsom had turned into Magaluf and even worse, these students are all so beautiful, its hard to hate them.  I did go downstairs in my sad pyjamas feeling older, fatter and frumpier than I ever have in my life, to have a word. Other neighbours took it a step further as the police turned up around 2.30am. Not a great start for them and very disrespectful behaviour on a school night – there I am being a frump again, but these days I seriously would rather just sleep!  

It has been a tough week at work and I am fed up with people having a pop at Recruitment Consultants. It is my chosen profession and not all of us are full of complete bullshit.  It is not my fault that if one of my clients is seeking a qualified financial adviser that I can’t help you get an interview because you are a waitress/hairdresser/police officer or school teacher even if you are good at adding up! 

Sometimes in my job every phone call turns to gold. In April I was the number 1 consultant in the company. At this moment in time our office is seriously jinxed. I can’t say that I’m dealing with idiots as that would not be fair. Maybe I am the idiot for wanting to be a Recruitment Consultant in the first place. Oh, if I could turn the clock back to 1995. Maybe I should have been a holiday rep for ever and stayed in Ibiza with Shaggy and Stevie Sideburns. 

Once again, my life is like Ground Hog day and I have never seen the film. After work its get home, make dinner, bath Charlotte, wash up, put Charlotte to bed. I am well trained. I even take the rubbish out and change light bulbs. Okay, I do the spotlights very badly and in places we have pieces of ceiling hanging out, but I do try. I am very trying according to my Benny Boy who is in the middle of writing a Best Man Speech for my sister’s wedding. He gets lots of ammunition for me. 

My best ranting is done when I am pre-menstrual.

Charlotte is enjoying pre-school and she is now in her second week of the Early Learning Centre at her nursery.  The first week there were tears every day when I dropped her off as she clung to my big fat juicy thigh. On Friday however, she cried when I picked her up as she was going to miss her friends over the weekend. I just can’t win.

Please show me the money god and let me place some candidates next week. Let the drought end so that I can shop in the new H&M in Epsom. That is all I ask of you. Amen.

Growing Up....

When I was young, people asked me, "do you have a boyfriend?"
When I had a boyfriend, people asked me "When are you getting married?"
When I got married, people asked me "When are you having a baby?"
When I had a baby, people asked me, "When are you having number two"

The answer should be "None of your bloody business!". Why should we conform?  I was perfectly happy single. Okay I was desperate for a child and if I had not have been blessed, I would have changed my life in some other way. You may have found me selling watermelons on a beach in Thailand. And for the record, again, I am not having a brother or Sister for Charlotte. I am 43 and skint. For goodness sake.

My sister is getting married. Oh dear, I ask the same questions! Woops. Well good luck to them. I look forward to being Matron of Honour. I wanted to be a Maid but it's Matron because I am over the hill, full of wrinkles and have a husband. The hen night was fabulous. A great and proper girls night out - lovely Italian meal, lots of wine, laughter and chatter followed by some Karaoke tunes. All lovely and pleasant. I would hate to be a Stag.. although my future bro-in-law did come home with his eyebrows intact and he was not tied naked to a lamppost.

I was a blubbering mess last week when my little girl left her room at Nursery, "Little Learner Shakers" to start next door the following week at the Early Learning Centre in the same nursery! What am I going to be like next year when she goes to "big school"? Watching my child grow up is so emotional.  It is for all Mums of course and Aunties/God Mother's etc, but wonderful fun at the same time.