Flowery's girl

I know that when anyone thinks back on their school days their mind automatically tends to drift towards those cigarettes smoked behind the bicycle sheds; mitching double maths due to never having your homework done (that could have just been me); disco dancing secondary school days and rarely do you think of your primary school days as due to your age at the time, the memories of this period in your life are probably hazy at best. Not so with me. I mean I do think of secondary school as some of the funniest and best days of my life but when I am feeling particularly nostalgic, I often think of my primary school days as some of the most innocent and good clean fun times that I have ever spent. It is possible that I am looking at these days with rose tinted glasses as this is also the 1980's time frame that I am talking about but I really don't think so. Very recently a girl who was in my class from junior infants to sixth class got in touch with me as she had started up a reun...

I have continued to paint all 28 panels of my garden fence every night since the last time I blogged and I am please to report that I am now FINISHED! The sense of achievement is almost as great as the time I came third in a race and got a medal in the under 5's sprint at the local community sports day (there were only three of us in the actual race but that realisation didn't dawn on me until I was about ten years old so the jubilation that came with receiving that medal was with me for a long time). Anyway, a couple of evenings ago I was on my ladder putting the final touches to the panels at the back of the garden when a neighbour passed by on the road at the front of my house. I should probably explain that my house is on a big, giant slope which means that while I am up a ladder at the back of the garden, I have a view of the neighbourhood and the neighbourhood has a view of me. It also makes having things like having swings or a slide for the kids a bit of an impossibilit...

Okay - I'm sorry, I'm sorry , I'm sorry. To all of you who have emailed me asking me for an updated blog, I apologise for the delay and I am so flattered that all three of you cared enough to look for it (three people is a bigger number than no people so a big fat raspberry to any of you who are laughing at my exaltation). The truth is that after five years of living in this house I am finally trying to get the garden into a little bit of shape and I have been out every night for the last month painting the garden fence. It has 28 panels and is such an awkward shaped fence to do which is why it is taking me so long. It has stakes in front and behind so I have to paint our side and then get my hand in through the stakes and paint the neighbours half of the fences that is facing us. If my description isn't helping then save yourself the bother of trying to decipher it and just look at the picture. It's a nightmare. I've had hubby out helping me a few times but ...

Oh my God! I decided to cut my hair today and wait for it.......... I am now the owner of a brand new fringe. Now I understand this may not sound like interesting news to anyone else but me but please, allow me to elaborate. It all started about about six months ago when I was having my hair done for a play that I was in. My character was supposed to be in her late forties or early fifties and so it was necessary for me to age myself up.When the hair dresser in question was putting up my hair she suddenly turned to me and said without any malice at all "Oh my God, the wrinkles on your forehead are fantastic. How the hell did you get them to look so realistic?" She was absolutely mortified when I whispered "Em, they are actually my own wrinkles, I haven't done my make-up yet". We both started at each other in horror. Ever since I cannot stop looking in the mirror and studying the depths of these lines that I had never even noticed before that day. Fast forward to...

I did it! I walked the flora women's mini marathon in 2 hours and 14 minutes and if that doesn't sound like much of an achievement to anyone else, then please keep in mind that I cut the lawn the day before and had to lie down for half an hour afterwards. That is the level of my unfitness. A group of my friends from the mother and toddler group had decided to so it and although I know that the true purpose of the day was to raise much needed funds for various charities, I have to admit that my first thought was 'Yes!!! - an entire day away from the kids and lots of adult company to boot'. I couldn't sign up fast enough. I arrived at the bus with my friend and neighbour Isabel bright eyed eyed and bushy tailed and it was then that we learnt that there was only the two of us and one other girl from our immediate circle of friends who had actually shown up on the day to do it (excuses ranged from illness, to lack of babysitter to "Well, it sounded like fun at the ...

If you have not already watched the movie Sex and the City 2, then do not read any further as the chances are after reading this that you never will. The following piece is full of spoiler alerts. So like most woman my age I used to absolutely love the television series. It was edgy, funny, quirky, gave a fabulous insight into living in New York and best of all, people could relate to the characters (Who has never claimed to be a Carrie/Charlotte?). I wasn't keen on the first movie as I felt that in order to make it suitable for a wider audience they had to play down a lot of the edginess that made Sex and the City what it was and instead of giving us four, sassy, sexy independent ladies, we were now watching characters that in my opinion had become a little bit like spoilt brats. Amidst very, very mediocre reviews from friends and family, I decided to give the second movie a chance but came away feeling like a battery hen who has been force fed a truckload of corn. Where do I star...

It's worse than cigarettes. It' s more perilous than beer and while I don't know any heroin addicts personally, I am pretty sure that the enslavement quality of Facebook must be right up there with it. It is the 21st century's equivalent to peeping through your front curtains into the house across the road from you or peering over your neighbours fence into their back garden to see what they are up to. To concede that you like Facebook is pretty much the same as owning up to liking Big brother. You are admitting to the world that you have no life of your own so you are reduced to living vicariously through other people with the added bonus of being able to share pointless and meaningless information about yourself ("Rachael is getting ready to watch telly." "Rachael is eating a big mac for dinner" - that sort of thing). It is just so completely and utterly self indulgent. It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I have not gone back to work sinc...