Leaving on a Jet Plane...

I'm loving the song analogies this week... a bit... ok, it's a pretty poor link...

Last night the boys asked if we could go and live in Singapore. KC wants to see his Godfather - whom he adores, cousin Marcus is coming to stay tomorrow, whom both boys adore, and TJ wants to join the Arsenal soccer school, of which there are three in Singapore.

This of course led onto the question of why we left Singapore in the first place.

Obviously, we explained that is we hadn't have left then we wouldn't have been able to adopt the two of them and they would never have met us, but that didn't seem enough - so we went on to chat about how they were only babies when Papa and I returned to the UK and how we wanted to come back and Papa had been offered a great job and I had decided I wanted to try something new.

"You were an actor" KC said, "But you only ever wanted to be an actor." KC currently wants to be an actor - or a vet, or join the army, maybe all three. "Ah yes," I said knowingly, "But an actors life is short lived and anyway, I wanted to come back for a while". Obviously the full story was a bit more complex and we did question whether coming back would be a good idea - although at that time becoming a family wasn't particularly high on our agenda..

We eventually decided that it would be silly not to come back. My career was in the wane in Singapore, the last press articles had referred to me as being the worst thing at British Fashion Week, where I was only the host. Apparently, according to the fashion press, my clothes were so tight that you could see every roll of fat and it was just horrific – in my defense, I had turned up in a suit and the designers wanted me to wear their own stuff, fine if you are a tiny Asian chap, which I am not. I don’t believe I’m fat by any means but a white guy wearing the equivalent of European kids clothes is not going to look good. 

However, being the consummate professional (and because they said they wouldn’t pay me if I didn’t do it) I went on stage and introduced the beautiful models wearing the stunning clothes using my best Judith Chalmers type accent but wearing a tiny outfit and looking not unlike ‘Daffyd, the only gay in the village’ from ‘Little Britain’. I knew how bad I looked and had tried to hide behind the lectern, but that was just a piece of transparent plastic which probably acted as a magnifying glass.

Worse still the day after I had to attend a luncheon with the British High Commission to look at the hosting schedule for the IMF meeting that was to happen later that year. When I walked into the restaurant everyone hurriedly put away the newspapers and started talking nervously about other things. “It’s ok,” I said, “I’ve seen the article” (it was hard not to as it was a full front page colour shot of me in the offending outfit with large red arrows pointing to my rolls of fat, or ‘fats’ as they were referred to, under the headline of ‘The Lowlight of Fashion Week” I was standing next to the 'Highlight', some skinny bitch from the Ukraine I think – she wasn’t even British!) There was a sigh of relief around the table, “Thanks goodness,” the High Commissioner said, “We were worried how we could broach it.” “Don’t worry,” I replied, “ I’ll wear a suit for Gordon Brown” and everyone laughed – inside though I died a little.

So leaving Singapore wasn’t that tough a decision to make.

Going back would be just as tough.... but at least TJ could take his Arsenal kit....

The Arsenal Cavalier

"I've got fleas - they're multiplying and I'm losing control...."

So sang Lea this morning whilst getting ready for school - I didn't want to correct her as she was showing me the dance she had made up to go along with her favourite song from the musical Grease. It consisted of her scratching under his arms and jumping around like a monkey. I thought it was fairly creative so let her get on with it (such a tomboy!). TJ was suitably impressed giving Lea an 8 out of 10 - believe me, anything above a 5 is good from that little critic! (I did get a 10 for fish fingers once - but that's another story!)

We are coming now to the half term break and both boys are getting excited. Today it is dress up day for TJ and, for once, I remembered. But I couldn't recall what the theme was, I knew it had something to do with their recent trip to Dover castle - TJ's favourite part of the trip was running up the stairs from the dungeons to the top - "What about the rest of the castle?" I asked him. "I don't remember that," he replied, "But I was a really fast runner up the stairs."So much for an educational day out - they could have just as easily taken him to a local high rise and asked him to run to the top and back again - he would have remembered just as much. Although, to be fair, I did get a picture of him from school today sitting on a throne dressed as a King, so he must have stopped running at some point.

Anyway, back to dressing up day. "Do you remember what the teacher said?" I asked TJ. As anyone with small children knows asking them to remember anything is like pulling teeth. "I think I can wear my Arsenal kit," came the reply. "really?" I asked, "Its a sports dress up day is it?"TJ thought just a few seconds too long before saying, "Yes, yes, it's a sports dress up day." Warning signals had gone off. A, he had paused to think and B, there was a mention of Arsenal. TJ has had his Arsenal and football privileges suspended for urinating over another child... when I say urinating he didn't just wee on the other boy's shoe or leg, no, my son sprayed the child from head to foot completely drenching him... the reason? TJ told the other child he wanted to wee on the floor and the other child said he would 'tell on' TJ if he did that - so TJ wee'd on him instead. Great. I was back in school and spent about 20 minutes apologising to the teachers, the boy and his Mum whilst glaring at TJ.

Needless to say this week TJ has been on a tight leash - literally! He has to earn back his football club and kit - and it does seem to have done the trick. Normal rewards and consequences (stickers or the naughty step) just don't work with TJ, so in a way I am secretly pleased that we have finally found something that he really cares about.

So the Arsenal kit was not an option. I quickly gave school a call, yes it was dress up day and the theme was 'Castles!' That made sense and we had bought TJ a Cavalier suit a little while ago. "Its too small." He cried as we tried it on, "And the hat's too big. Can't I wear my Arsenal kit.""They didn't have football kits in the old days, I said, "They wore stuff like this." "But I hate it!" he cried again. "This is supposed to be fun!!!" I yelled at him, "Now get dressed and have fun!"

"Can I take my sword then?" he asked once we had calmed down, "No, school said no swords." I replied. "How can I have fun without a sword!" he yelled at me... this was not going to be an easy morning.

Eventually, we all toddled off to school, TJ clutching his dressing up clothes for after lunch and Lea led the way practising her song to show her teacher. I hope the teacher likes the song and I pray that TJ keeps his clothes on....

Beyond IDAHO

.. Firstly I can't believe how successful that last blog post was - I can only thank people for their support in sharing it and for taking the time to write back. There were some truly lovely messages - especially via the facebook page. (I know it can be difficult commenting on here - hence the facebook link).

I think what has surprised me most about the success of our story is simply because that is all it is, our story. I don't want to change the world just let people know that being a multi cultural gay family can really work. We have the same ups and downs as anybody else, although sometimes with more dramatic results I guess and some of our 'issues' have to be handled differently but we just get on with life.

This was always intended to be a light hearted take on our lives and I hope I have kept it that way (excusing the occasional rant - but that's parenting!). I just hope I have kept it honest...

This weekend was an interesting one, our youngest son TJ has had to grounded again. his time for misdemeanors in school. Not only is our youngest now telling the teachers what he wants to do and refusing to do anything that he doesn't want to but he has also taken his anger out on other children in his class - I won't go into details but he is pretty lucky not to have been suspended... I have done my utmost to remain calm when school called me in for the third time on Friday... I take my hats off to his teachers for their ongoing patience. The upshot was that TJ didn't get to go to the movies with Papa on Saturday (their weekly Papa/son time) he got to stay at home with me and together we made 'I'm sorry' cupcakes for his teachers at school. To be honest, I think he had quite a good time - he got to crack the eggs and measure the ingredients and, most importantly, whilst we were baking we had time to chat. To talk about how he was angry all the time but he didn't know why. He wasn't angry with me or Papa - just everybody else... and especially school because they told him what to do... and especially the Sprog... which took me by surprise... Their bond is usually the strongest, but this is a week that has seen TJ in constant trouble and Sprog doing really well in school.

I suppose much of his anger towards those who tell him what to do must stem back to his time in care, the fact that he had no control over where he went or where he lived. As he settles he is now hitting back at the system,  of course, he doesn't know he is doing this, but he is trying, I think,to show that he can have some control over his own life. Unfortunately, that doesn't play out too well in a school setting.

Someone did talk to me about home schooling. Apparently a lot of adopted children benefit greatly from the removal of the constraints of school. I can see that argument, especially at the moment, but I also fear that he would then miss out on the social side of school and also, in my opinion, he has to come to terms with the idea of rules...

My only other reason for removing him from school would be discrimination... He is a child with attachment issues, additional needs, living in a 'modern' family... But I think that is a long way off....

Now back to answering emails from the Facebook page... I hope to see you there!

IDAHO and School...

TJ has been coming home from school this week concerned that other children were telling him that being gay is a bad thing. He is fairly open about most things and was quite happy to tell me that other boys had said that there was a 'gay' toilet in school and that TJ must be gay because he used it (I've no idea where this toilet is - but school can be a funny place), he then went on to say that people use the term gay in a derogatory sense in school (obviously he didn't use those exact words) but he did tell me that certain friends say that things are 'gay' when they mean they are rubbish...'That's so gay... etc'. Obviously, this is quite a common use of the word in today's youth speak but for TJ, at this current time in his life, it has different connotations. As he is coming to terms with acknowledging that his Dad's are gay and that there are gay people in his world to suddenly hear negative views must be very confusing for him.

I remember a couple of years ago I was asked to speak to our local council about bullying in primary schools - they were obsessed with cyber bullying and how to tackle that. When I brought up homophobic bullying in schools I was simply told, "That doesn't really happen in primary schools - its just a bit of banter at that age." and the conversation was moved on...

Well, as more and more gay parents send their children to state schools then schools have to recognise that the 'harmless banter' is incredibly hurtful and confusing to many of our children, especially as they become more aware of differences in family life.

TJ has been telling his friends that the reason he doesn't have a mum is because she is in prison for doing a variety of horrid things, one of which is smoking. I know this because his little friends told me and at that age they are obsessed with families that are different - be it a same sex family or a single parent family. At this stage my main concern for TJ is that he has gone from being confident about his family to lying about his background - this may also explain some of his recent 'acting out' in school.

The Sprog is getting more aware - someone said to me that children shouldn't be learning about this type of thing at such an early age, but on the flip side it is also said that if a child is old enough to ask then they are old enough to be told the truth - all be it in a child friendly way. So it was back to the book 'Let's Talk About Where Babies Come From' which covers a great range of families and how they are created. (In the USA its called 'It's Amazing') an excellent book that he can understand and which I think TJ can be introduced to now.

Interestingly today is IDAHO (International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia) and this morning I used the opportunity to broach the subject of homophobia with the children - how it was not ok to discriminate against anyone. The Sprog said, 'You mean like when people say that being gay is bad?""that's right," I replied at which point, to my horror, TJ said, "Gay... eeeeurgh! Gay is horrid!"

Wow! I had to stop, the Sprog stared at TJ with his mouth open. "You can't say that," he said, Daddy and Papa are gay, that makes them sad."

"Are they?" TJ asked and he looked at me questioningly. "Yes, we are," I replied. "What's gay?" asked TJ. "It's where two men or two ladies love each other," the Sprog told him, "It also means happy." he added. "Oh," TJ said, "I thought being gay meant being dead." He wouldn't be drawn any further on the conversation but I wonder if other kids have said 'Your Dads are gay' and he has assumed they mean dead, which again could explain some of his recent behaviours. Of course, I may be over thinking it... (that happens a lot!). But one thing is certain, homophobia and homophobic comments start at a very early age - and it needs to be discussed openly and honestly at both home and at school - after all we wouldn't allow racism at home or in school and this is exactly the same.

I sat with both boys and we talked about TJ's Godfather, who is very involved with the Pink Dot movement in Singapore and I explained that unlike England, in Singapore it is still not allowed for two men to love each other. The Sprog looked horrified, "but then Uncle wont be able to find someone he loves and get married," he said. "Well, Uncle is in love but no, he can't get married in Singapore," I told him, The Sprog ran and got his pink dot cushion that Uncle had given him, "So this means that men should be able to love each other?" he asked. "Yes, that's right," I said. "Then why doesn't Uncle come to live with us? That way he can be happy with his love." The Sprog said.

I wanted to point out that the very reason that Papa and I had come back as because we wanted to have a family and as the laws changed in the UK so it seemed the right time, Papa then got offered a job and we came. I didn't add that in Singapore our four years together were not recognised so Papa nearly had his partnership visa revoked - luckily we had friends in the British High Commission who were able to help us get together all the correct documents but it did mean that Papa and I rushed our civil partnership through in 6 weeks in order to ensure his visa was correct. To be honest his work visa would have come through in time for him to start his new career but if he lost his job then he would have had to have gone back so it was better to get a partnership visa. Once full gay marriage is approved we will have a proper ceremony as so many of our friends and family missed out on our rushed Civil Ceremony. But back to the kitchen.....

TJ was listening intently to it all... "Let me get this straight," he said in his serious grown up voice, "Being gay means two men that love each other, two ladies that love each other or being happy?" "Pretty much," I said. "So is the Candyman gay?" he asked.

The Candyman had just come on the radio - as it does every Friday on Radio 2.

I was a bit stunned... "I don't think Sammy Davis Junior was gay,"I told him. "I meant its a happy song," he said disparagingly, "and you said that gay also means happy."

"Yes, yes, this is a very gay song," I said. The Sprog looked at me, "So are you saying its good or bad?" (obviously we had gone full circle back to gay being a derogatory term). "What do you think?" I asked him.

"Its a good thing!" he replied smiling. And the three of us danced around the kitchen to 'The Candyman" - How gay is that?

In the meantime I shall keep an eye on developments in school for both kidss... and I will definitely let TJ stay up for Eurovision this weekend!

The Napoleon Complex....

This seems to be something our youngest son is currently suffering from.

As regular readers will know TJ has a condition known as Noonan's syndrome - in his case it primarily effects his size, so although he is 7 he is roughly the size of a 4 year old - which means that he can get away with an awful lot. Being little and cute and having the ability to turn on the tears at the drop of a hat certainly has its advantages!

I have been called into the school three times this week - last week, you may recall, my youngest was holding his teachers to ransom - he would only do the test required if he was allowed to build a castle out of boxes afterwards. Well, we had a long chat with him about respecting teachers and that he didn't make rules in school etc. I also spoke to his therapist who pointed out that it was much more about control - that as our youngest was now becoming more settled so he was trying to control the areas of his life that he felt he could - most children tend to do this through food, refusing to eat etc, TJ does it through bargaining and getting people (parents as well) to coax him into doing what they want - usually by bargaining with him and eventually giving him precisely what he wanted in the first place.

Control is a big thing for many children, but for those who have come through the care system and who have suffered severe abuse it takes on a different aspect. In their birth families they had no control of the horrors that were going on around them and often happening to them, in the care system they had no control as to where they went, who they lived with or for how long, they were always ready to be moved on. So now TJ is more settled he is trying to exert his own form of control. Last year he did it through self harming and now that we have worked our way through that he is doing it through will power - or the Napoleon Complex as we have knick named it, the need for this little man to control all those around him.

So in order to ensure that both the teachers and we as parents are using the same techniques I went into school and had a chat with the teacher. We put into place a 'smiley' face scheme. The aim is to ensure that he gets a smiley face at the end of each day - providing he does this he can go to his beloved football club as usual. Any misdemeanours and there will be no football that week. It sounds harsh but as TJ also has the ability to disassociate and can completely cut himself off from the outside world, particularly if its something that he doesn't like (again this is a defence mechanism learned whilst with his birth family) However, recently he has made some progress and now the only thing that really matters to him is football - if you took away anything else he wouldn't care - and the usual discipline tactics very rarely have any effect on him, he doesn't want reward stickers, he switches off of you shout at him... all he cares about is playing football. So, rather than simply rewarding good behaviour we now have to put into place consequences for poor behaviour. Let's hope this has an effect.... although I have just been told that he will probably score quite low on his recent SATS tests... I'm not that concerned about the actual test itself, personally I think its ridiculous that 7 year olds have to undergo test conditions... I am concerned that he simply refused to do many of them, especially the ones he didn't like... He simply sat there and told the teachers that he wouldn't be doing it and that was that. He didn't relent at one point and tried to get the teacher to let him 'only do half the test', luckily the teacher was having none of that and hence I was called in. So consequences have to be metered out I'm afraid... great...

This then leads us onto the area of parenting that I hate - that of being the 'bad guy'. TJ has already told me that he is looking forward to my death in order that he can then 'do what he likes'. I was prepared to be told the usual kid things; "I hate you," "I wish you were dead" etc at some point... but to be told by your youngest son that he is looking forward to your demise in such a calm and calculated manner puts the fear of God in me... But I shall still have to go ahead and cancel football club for him for this week - I have to stand by the threat and carry it through - or I will simply be giving him back the control he so desperately wants.... sometimes parenting seems so cruel...

On a more positive note both boys were with me yesterday when our new mattress was delivered. The delivery man was joking with them and then said, 'Who is this mattress for, you boys or your Mummy and Daddy?" To which Lea quickly replied, "We don't have a Mummy we have two Dads, and we are very lucky." The man looked at me and said, "Well, that told me didn't it?" he then smiled and said, That's one very bright little girl you have there." The children then raced up the stairs to show the men where to put the mattress.....

So we must be doing something right....

I did it....

... yes, I did.

I now hold the dubious title of being the first to swear at the children... I'm not proud of the fact and I have been feeling guilty all morning. It didn't help when I called Papa to tell him of my terrible transgression and he laughed, "I thought it would be me who was the first to use an expletive," he said triumphantly, "I can't believe it was you! Well, that's your 'Dad of the Year' award out the window now!" and he howled at his own little joke...

What caused this dreadful misdemeanour?

Well, this morning was the standard Monday morning ready for school day. Except that over the weekend Papa and I had been putting up shelves and a bookcase as well as preparing the garden for a delivery of garden furniture today so our normal weekend routine had been thrown slightly. Usually on a Sunday I get everything ready for school - book bags, sports kits, shoes cleaned etc, on well prepared days I even get the packed lunches ready and in the fridge.

That didn't happen and it's a mistake I won't make again.

This morning we were suddenly in a major rush - TJ was shouting for his football boots, Lea was complaining that she didn't want cheese sandwiches, she wanted jam. "Ok',' I said, "I'll make you jam sandwiches!' So I got the jam out of the fridge (lovely Pear and Ginger - which Lea loved at the wedding, so I bought 4 jars!), Lea took one look at it and said, 'Not that jam, jam is supposed to be red not green." I was now trying to wash a dirty football boot in the sink whilst making a jam sandwich with apparently the wrong sort of jam - she didn't want lovely farm made jam that was her favourite until that very moment - no she wanted supermarket 'everyday' sugar filled rubbish. Well, tough, as I didn't have any.

TJ then decided that he wanted toast for breakfast - after I had already prepared the cereal he requested when he got up. Again, tough - they had to eat what was in front of them.

I got the lunches packed and ready and poured the children their juices, Lea likes only apple and TJ only likes red juice - it doesn't matter what type as long as it is red (Arsenal red!)

School uniforms next. I raced upstairs and sorted out the school uniforms before collecting book bags and homework.

The kids were screaming at each other - I have no idea what the squabble was about - jam probably, but by now my head was beginning to pound and I need a coffee. I don't allow myself coffee until after the kids have gone to school and I can sit down. I was getting more and more agitated as for the third time I told the kids to sit down and eat properly.

Then the phone wrang, it was the school. TJ is to be called before the headteacher today - for refusing to sit his test paper. Thats a blog in itself so I'll do that later... its a good one! Anyway, the school told me that I wouldn't need to come in they would deal with my youngest themselves.

TJ heard this and said to Lea, "That's good news, Daddy doesn't have to come in," TJ now thinks he has got away with his behaviour - just you wait young man!

Anyway, the upshot was that in this frenzy TJ gave Lea a push, Lea knocked her apple juice all over the floor that I had just mopped yesterday evening, time froze and I just erupted... "What the f***!" I shouted... Lea burst into tears and went to her room while TJ sat there with his mouth open revealing the cornflakes that were waiting to be chewed. I stood there feeling incredibly guilty - so I covered it up as all parents do when they feel they are in the wrong... I shouted louder and made sure the kids knew that my losing my temper was in fact their fault. They went to their rooms and got changed - although I knew they were discussing my transgression (or maybe that was my paranoia).

So we went off to school and to be honest as soon as we got near the gate the children saw their friends, gave me a quick kiss goodbye, and rushed off to get on with their school life. Hopefully they won't remember the events of this morning by lunchtime... hopefully...

Divide and Conquer...

So this is an area where adopted children are said to excel - they experience it from very early on in their lives and soon become used to power struggles and maintaining their own safety - its a kind of defence mechanism I guess.

If the parents are busy fighting each other then they wont be taking their anger out on the kids... its awful to think that comes as an inbuilt device for so many in the care system.

Unfortunately, our youngest is king of this and it is now continuing in school - yesterday I was told that he practically held his teacher's to ransom - he was not going to do his test unless they allowed him to rebuild his castle - and he was adamant - he even held his ground until the teachers gave in. Whilst a part of me admires that grit and  can't resist  a smile at imagining him bargaining with his teachers - there is another part that worries about his distinct lack of concern for anyone in authority. Again, when you have been in care you are pretty much invincible- everything you say is listened to and given weight - particularly when it is aimed at adults - after all, unlike birth children, everyone who comes into contact with these children is paid to do a role and is therefore scrutinised constantly. Our eldest is now using his therapy as means of dividing Papa and myself-  or attempting to. He reports things to his therapist expecting there to be action when Papa or I don't behave as he wants us to - ie. we tell him off, apparently shouting is a big 'no no'. His therapist and I are now discussing whether this is now a good time to put his therapy on hold for a while - in order for him to have to trust us and not the professionals.

I sat him down this morning, shortly after the two kids threw apple juice over each other and informed them that they would be shouted at if they behaved so badly - and that if shouting was so upsetting then maybe they should try being good and nobody would have to shout... I must admit I was at my wits end with them both! (I'm pretty sure that is not in the 'good parenting guide')

Papa and I had a big chat last night - mainly about parenting and how it has changed our lives - not always for the good. I hate to admit it but there are times when we think that our lives would have been so much easier without all this hassle. We sat down and tried to remember why we wanted to do this - I can honestly say we couldn't but we knew we were committed to these children and somehow we had to ensure that they didn't play us against each other - as they are doing...

Its obvious that KC sees me as the soft touch - but I have seen him at his lowest, I've picked him up off the floor when it all got too much and sat with him as he sobbed about his past.  I can relate to him as he is so open with his feelings - now... it took me a long time to get him there but now he needs to move on and (I hate to say it ) but grow up.

TJ on the other hand is tiny - due to a condition - and as such plays his size off against any form of discipline - he can turn the tears on at the drop of a hat, but the tears don't mean anything. He is very withdrawn and does respond to Papa, I think because they are both more reserved and I have to be careful not to push TJ away - but again, we have a tendency to treat him as a baby and heap so many expectations on our older child....  we cannot play favourites although I'm sure the children know which one of us favours which child....

Parenting is hard and, I'm not looking for sympathy - just sharing, adopting can be a nightmare!!!!!!

May Day... A Royal Story...

So its officially the May Day bank holiday weekend and the children were watching Maypole dancing on a kids TV programme last night.

"Why are they doing that?" TJ asked. "Well, its to celebrate the beginning of Summer," I replied. "Do they have a barbecue?" asked TJ. "I think they probably have one afterwards if its nice weather," I told him. The Sprog said, "Did you do things like that when you were little, Daddy?"

The kids are obsessed with the idea of myself and Papa as children at the moment, they say its a sign of recovery from trauma when children start to settle enough to think about their own future and are able to put their past behind them, so we are doing all we can to encourage this interest, showing pictures of us as boys, getting the children to talk to their Grandparents etc. So I carried on, "When I was little we lived in a village and every year we used to have a big party when the whole village would come together and there would be stalls and a parade and parties afterwards - it was lots of fun." (admittedly it does sound like the beginning of a particularly gory episode of 'Midsomer Murders' but it also sums up the village atmosphere.)

"Do you have any photos?" TJ asked. "I think Granny has," I replied, "We can ask her to show us next time we see her." Again this brought back memories of my Dad's endless 'slide shows' where we would all sit huddled in a darkened living room with the screen set against the wall and my Dad leaning over the projector and us laughing when he put the pictures in upside down - which I now appreciate he probably did deliberately in order to break the monotony of seeing yet another beautiful picture of a tree in Snowdonia..."

Then I suddenly remembered one particular Village Day and wondered how on earth I was going to explain this one to my kids...

It was 1977, Silver Jubilee year, and our street were putting together a float that was to show a re-enactment of the coronation using the children who lived on the street. Our street was unusual in that there was a lot of boys living there and only one girl who was old enough to sit on the back of the lorry and be paraded through the streets of the village. So the boys were all press ganged into being soldiers, courtiers etc. I, being the same age as the young lady, was to be Prince Philip and accompany my Queen.... All ok so far.

Then the week before the big day we heard that the young lady playing the queen was to be crowned as the Village May Queen and would therefore have to leave our float in order to sit in her own 'carriage' to her crowning ceremony as Rose Queen which was always at the end of the parade.

There was an emergency 'street' meeting. The families all got together in our living room and my Dad's home made wine was shared out - to be honest this was probably the cause of all the problems - my Dad's home made elderflower was extremely popular but also lethal, my aunt once commented that you could run a car off the fumes alone - and then proceeded to drink a bottle and have to be carried home. So everyone was debating what to do... "Should we change our float's theme?" - no it was too late, "Should we cancel the float this year?" - this was met with cries from the kids, we always knew we would have a great time and who wouldn't want to ride on the back of a lorry through the village (kids TV was pretty dull then and riding on the back of a lorry was an annual highlight!). So what were we to do?....

Then my Mother spoke.... As I recall it, it still replays in slow motion, "My son will do it." The other parents and kids looked at her, "What do you mean?" another parent asked, "He is already playing Prince Philip."

Now the world around me froze as my Mum said, "No, he can be the Queen - he wont mind - he loves dressing up." she then turned to me and I felt the eyes of everyone in the street bearing down on me, eagerly pleading with me to agree to this abomination... I was only 8 after all... "Come on dear, " my Mum went on, "If you don't do it then you'll be letting everyone down and we'll have to cancel the float."

Time stood still.

"Ok," I whispered.

There was another silence whilst this sank in. Then the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and everyone relaxed and now drank Dad's wine with celebratory gusto... everyone except my Dad who was now very quiet...

So the big day came - my Mum did my hair - she put an horrendous brown wig on me and I was fully robed in an exact scaled down copy of the Queen's coronation gown, the crown itself kept falling off, so my younger brother was given the task of standing in front of me holding the crown on a gilt cushion (which was actually from our front room). I got up onto the float and sat on my throne, another lady was teaching me how to wave like a royal as a mocked up orb and sceptre were thrust into my hands. The rest of my courtiers and entourage got up on to the float - all the boys from my street who were by now beside themselves laughing and my brother took pride of place in front of me wearing the biggest grin I have ever seen.

My Dad, came up and whispered in my ear, "It's alright," he said, "No-one will recognise you and it will all be over soon - I'll take your jeans and t-shirt to the school and you can change straight after."

I breathed a sigh of relief, I just had to get through the village and pretend to be a girl - no-one would know it was me.

We pulled out of the street and my Dad was right - no-one recognised me, I heard a few people ask who I was and someone even said, "That's a pretty girl - she should've been Rose Queen." I was pretty pleased by that and even my brother was getting tired of grinning at me. Then we rounded a corner and I saw my family all standing together, Dad had obviously been too embarrassed to tell the extended family of my acting debut as my Aunt (who had probably already been on the elderflower wine) suddenly shouted out, "Bloody Hell, that's your son!" she turned to my parents, "It is isn't it?" and then the worst thing in the world happened as she turned to the float and in front of a huge crowd of kids from my school started waving and shouting, "Oy, love, look over here - I need a nice picture of you..." she turned to the assembled crowd, "That's my nephew that is - but doesn't he make a pretty girl!"

By now I wanted the float to speed off and drive over a cliff but it didn't - it pulled into the school field accompanied by a horde of school kids shouting my name, laughing and waving at me. Great...

Dad got me off the float and took me up to the school toilets where I could get changed, although unfortunately the 1970's make up seemed to be etched into my skin and no amount of scrubbing with school hand soap would shift it. So now I was in jeans and a t shirt and full regal make up.

"Never mind,' said Dad, "You did your bit and it will all be forgotten soon. Let's go and have some fun - your Mum's buying the ice creams!"

No sooner had he said that when the Head master stood up to give the winning floats their prizes - there was a lot of competition between the different streets and organisations to get this award. "The winner for this silver jubilee carnival is.. the scouts tropical beach getaway." I breathed a sigh of relief as the scout leader went and collected the prize. "But a special commendation and a jubilee special prize goes to the Children's Coronation," I froze as he carried on, "Can her majesty the Queen come up here and collect the prize." I was pushed up to the front - but by now I was back in my own clothes and any remaining doubts there may have been about who was playing the Queen were now dispelled - everyone in the whole village now knew it was me.

I went up and collected the award and turned to the crowd and to a huge round of applause gave a regal curtsey... then I went and ate ice cream and had a fun afternoon.

Looking back I have to apologise to the real Rose Queen (you know who you are) as I think I upstaged her that day and what should have been a lovely childhood memory for her was destroyed by my reveal as the first drag queen our village knew - publicly anyway... I also think I had a prettier gown...

Now I have to explain those slides to my kids...

Wallpaper.....

So one week after the wedding and we are all back to normal now. We have finally stopped saying; "This time last week we...."

Papa and I decided to throw ourself into decorating our new home and getting it ready for the summer. We had selected the wallpaper for the dining room and the living room a while ago and decided that now was the time to do it!

Papa is amazing at things like this - his DIY skills are brilliant - mine are rubbish but what I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm (to coin a phrase) - Oddly enough on our way back from the wedding we were listening to the Paddington stories on audio cd (read by Stephen Fry - excellent). One of the stories, which TJ thought was hilarious, was the one where Paddington decides to 'help' the Brown's by wallpapering his own room with disastrous results. I'm not sure if that was what put the idea into my head but by the end of the journey we were all geared up to spend the weekend up to our furry little ears in wallpaper and paste.

The living room was a joy to do - we covered everything and I was in charge of pasting - it was a good idea to cover everything as I am a little splash happy with paste and ended up with more of it on me than on the walls. But Papa has a great eye and my Habitat lined paper was up and it looked vertical - Papa had used a spirit level to ensure everything was in line....

We then moved to the dining room and I had selected a 1950's style paper which matches our white washed wooden floors. All good - there was a slight gap in the paper - due to a bend in the wall apparently (or thats what Papa said), but we can hide that behind our pictures - so again all good. We had a roll of paper left and half a bucket of paste. 'Right," I said, "Let's go back to the store and we can get a couple of rolls of paper and do the wall behind our bed."A brilliant idea!

So we went back but the paper I had chosen had sold out! I decide that was good thing as we didn't want the same paper as everyone else, so Papa chose a beautiful silver/grey paper with a wave in it. Fantastic! We bought two rolls and knew we could get them up before the kids bath time.

We raced upstairs and covered everything and then got started. It was as we put up the first roll that Papa realised it was silk and being a silk paper it moved... a lot... and having a wave in it it needed lining up... and that meant a lot more work and a lot of wasted paper. Our quick job ended up taking over 3 hours - the children were in the bath and I was running up and downstairs sorting them out whilst also helping Papa who was stuck up a ladder matching paper. Suddenly Papa gave out an anguished cry. I raced back into the room. "We don't have enough paper!" he cried. Sure enough there were two small gaps at the bottom of the wall which were unpapered. The shop was now closed and I didn't really want to spend that amount of money to cover two small gaps. I suggested that we just piece it together with some of the scraps - after all that area was behind the bed and no-one would see it. "But I'll know its there!" cried Papa.

I told him the story of my own Dad who papered the living room when I was a child. It was only when we moved house that we realised he hadn't bothered to paper behind the furniture and when we took that furniture out you could see great big gaps where it had been. This seemed to placate him and he went ahead to patch the bottom of the wall.

Panic over - wallpapering done - furniture put back... and no-one will be any the wiser. Unless they have read this blog of course!!!!!!!!!

The Wedding - the aftermath

So the next day we all awoke at various times - although Papa and I didn't get much sleep as our beautifully furnished room was so darn hot... We were up till the small hours desperately trying to work out how the thermostat on the radiator worked. It was one of those new electric heaters and we were flummoxed!

We woke up and I drew the curtains and there, just behind them was a small switch with the word 'heater' above it and the words 'on' and 'off' above and below it... great.

Then there was a banging at the door, The Sprog needed the toilet. "Can't you use the one in your room?" I asked. 'Granny is in the shower,' came the reply. The Sprog and Granny were sharing the room next door and TJ was on a put-you-up bed in our room. "Come on in," I said and The Sprog went into our bathroom, commenting that our room was very hot as he walked through.

Then there was another knock. This time it was my sister who seemed to be wearing someone else's clothes - I know that as I had seen the very same clothes on the Best Man the morning before at breakfast.. my mind was racing, it was all turning into a 'Bold and the Beautiful" type of wedding where the bride had decided at the last minute to rush off with the Best Man... although that wasn't likely - and there were two Best Men, which would have just added to the confusion.

"Have you got my suitcase?" she asked, "I left it in the hall at Mum's for it to be brought here." (If you recall I was helping the cab drivers loads all the clothes and cases and packs for the bridesmaids and their entourage on the big day itself.) "I think I took everything," I said. My sister looked crest fallen. "Then I don't have anything to wear,"she said, "Everything is in that bag."

I decided to see what we could do - after breakfast of course!

So after a lovely communal breakfast of sausages and eggs and all the trimmings form the estate itself I made the journey back to my Mum's house for the fourth time in 3 days. At least this time we had the keys. We also took Mum with us in case the case had been lost and then my sister could borrow some clothes. So 25 minutes later we arrived and there was my sister's case by the front door. We went back again, stopping off at the local farm shop to get supplies for that evening's dinner and the next morning's breakfast. Two hours later we got back to the cottages again. Papa had taken the children out on a nature walk and was playing frisbee with them, everyone else had gone out on a three mile hike - except my Nan who was happily reading her Kindle in the living room of our cottage.

I got in the door and decided that I wanted to go out with the kids and Papa - it really felt like I had barely seen them all weekend, so off we went on the walk again - only this time the kids could show me where we had to go. They had a great time exploring and finding 'dens' down by the lakeside. Sometimes we forget how beautiful the UK can be - then it started to rain and we remembered why we don't holiday here... but the kids didn't care and just carried on playing. Papa on the other hand grumbled about the British weather and went inside to make Nan a cup of tea.

By now the others were arriving back and we all sat down to a hearty meal of chilli, bread, carrots and wedding cake (which everyone seemed to enjoy - one lady who told me she knew 'a lot about cake' said it was honestly the best wedding cake she had ever had - I beamed! I asked the groom's mother who this lady was, was she a culinary expert? a top notch patissierre? "She goes to a lot of weddings and eats a lot of cake" came the reply - but I didn't care, I will take the compliment!) - all was washed down with the champagne from my car, the driving had all been worth it - fantastic! We then spent an hour or so playing family games - although pretty soon everyone started drifting off to their beds.

The next morning we all had a final breakfast and then said our goodbyes, I took the chief bridesmaid, or I suppose she was the Matron of honour as she is married, and her husband and new born baby to the local railway station before Papa and I loaded the kids back into our car and we headed off back down the motorway after what had been a fantastic and memorable weekend!

Wedding - Part 5 - Partyyyyyy!

So after all the debacle of the keys, the cake and the speeches we were finally able to relax - at least I was!

I started as I meant to go on and cracked open a bottle of red!

The children were brilliant - they both danced until their legs fell off. TJ, who is normally the more reserved of the two, was holding court on the dance floor - he was spinning and doing cartwheels and the splits in full - thank goodness his trousers went with him... TJ has hyper mobility and can do amazing things with his body. I remember once when we were at a local shopping mall and TJ suddenly slipped and went into the full splits - sideways! I rushed over to check he was ok and a lady grabbed my arm and said, "Did you know he could do that?" I replied that I did to which she said with a startled expression, "That's not normal for a boy - I think my husband has just fainted!"I looked over and her husband had indeed gone a strange colour...... It always amazes me that people are so happy to tell you exactly what they think about your children. I just smiled, picked TJ up and went on with our shopping.

But the wedding reception was in full swing. TJ and his cousin discovered the Nintendo DS - so we lost both of them for a while. I make no secret that I am not a fan of hand held computer games - but the boys seemed to be having a great time and at least they were playing together.

It was all going really well - a fantastic atmosphere. Then I was summoned by my Aunt (who has a habit of summoning people) "Nan wants to go back to her room, we need a wheelchair," came the order (I would say request but to be honest....) As I was obviously now part of the staff I went off to find the organisers - who I had met the previous day when we were assembling the cake. They were brilliant and a large gentlemen led me around the back where we explored the storerooms to find the wheelchair. We duly found it, dusted it off and after we assembled it got it back to the venue to take Nan down the drive to the cottages where we were all spending the weekend.

My aunt took over and loaded my Nan into the chair - Nan was not too happy about the experience but having been on the sherry herself was soon to admit that she was probably better off being wheeled back to her room (which thankfully was on the ground floor of our cottage). We took Nan down the ramp - but didn't realise that between the ramp and the drive there was a patch of grass - of course the front wheels caught on the grass and the chair came to an abrupt halt... it was sheer luck that Nan didn't fly out of the chair - she wasn't happy. "If you keep this up I shall walk!!!!" she threatened. I thought about that but realised that the threat was real - if we walked Nan down the drive, which was about 200 yards, then it would be at least half an hour before we could get back to the party, so my Aunt and I agreed to push the chair together. Unfortunately, my Aunt had also been on the same sherry as my Nan and as I tried to push I noticed that we were veering to the right, back onto the grass verge. "Watch where you are going!" screamed Nan as a tree loomed before us. "Yes, watch it!" shouted my Aunt who then slipped, grabbed hold of my arm and erupted into peals of laughter. "Maybe you should hold onto my arm and not the chair?" I suggested. "I think thats a good idea," said my Aunt and so I valiantly pushed the chair down the hill whilst supporting my aunt who was now singing away - she has a lovely voice, so it wasn't all bad, although I'm not sure if Nan appreciated it, she as more concerned about the flight of steps that led down to the cottage door - "Don't worry Nan," I said "We'll take the driveway that the cars use - no steps there.." "Can we just get home," she said, "My feet are killing me!"The irony of that comment escaped her I think....

We got Nan into her room and made sure she was comfortable in bed before I helped my Aunt back up the hill and back to the party. I wont mention my Aunt nipping to the loo and coming out with her dress tucked into her knickers.... although she and my Nan found it hilarious - I on the other hand was now in a state of shock... "This better not end up in your blog!" my Aunt giggled... "Urm.. ok," I lied....

As I got back The Sprog came up and said, "Daddy, I'm tired now, its past my bedtime."  One of the things that The Sprog needs is constancy - he doesn't like her routine to be interrupted - even at a party. That is quite common for adopted children, so the therapist says, where they have been brought up in chaotic homes in their early years they crave order and routine and become a little unsure if that is broken in anyway - consequently whilst a lot of adopted children can cope with school they find holidays very difficult and that's when there can be behaviour issues. This is very apparent in  - TJ was a baby when he came into care so it doesn't effect him as badly - anyway, at that point TJ was jumping on a table and beatboxing with my younger, much cooler cousins. Papa came to the rescue and took The Sprog to his room, which was above Nan. Nan was by now in bed reading her book so she agreed to listen out for The Sprog and call us if there were any problems - although as my Nan has pretty poor eyesight I did have visions of her shouting into the TV remote control thinking it was a mobile phone but as it was, all was well.

TJ went back to the dance floor. I went to join him - he pushed me away, "No, you're not as cool as them." he pointed out my younger cousins. Great, my 7 year old was already ashamed of me... but not to worry - I can now officially Dad dance!!!!!!! So I gave him something to be really ashamed of as my two very beautiful (and by now very merry) female cousins and I danced whilst doing Girls Aloud and Lady Gaga routines - Britney Spears and Will-I-Am had nothing on us... Once TJ realised we were just all there to have fun he was soon forgot his embarrassment and we all danced together until the small hours...

A brilliant ending to an amazing day....

The Wedding - Part 4 - Keys

The wedding guests were all following each other to the venue. I got into a car with Mum and one of the other bridesmaids. We had to pop back to Mum's first so I could pick up my car keys as I was driving up to the venue myself, mainly because Papa doesn't drive and I had all the children and our clothes, as well as all the champagne, in the car ready to go, I also had lots of presents for the happy couple from various friends and family.

We arrived at Mum's, "Can I have the house keys?" I asked, "I left my keys in the downstairs toilet." (If you remember this was when I was washing my hands after juggling my nephew's snot and tissues.) My Mum looked at me and I saw the colour drain from her face. "I've left the keys with make up lady and told her to put them back through the letter box," she said. "Where is the spare set?" I asked. "On the coffee table where you left them after collecting them from Nanny's on Thursday." Now the colour drained out of my face. "So we have no way of getting into your house?" I said, "And I have no way of getting into my car?... Great."

Luckily the make up lady had securely locked every door and window - hooray!

We didn't know what to do. My Mum's neighbour came out and we agreed that she would get hold of an emergency locksmith and as soon as they had retrieved the keys they could call me and I would come back and pick up the our stuff and the champagne and Mum's keys, if it didn't happen by that day then Papa and I would be spending the weekend in our hired suits. Oh and, more importantly, there would be no champagne!

So we jumped back into the limo and sped off to the venue... Except we didn't speed anywhere as the taxi decided to take a route known only to ramblers. He went down tiny little lanes, he got stuck behind a tractor, he had to do a u turn. Then he suddenly remembered that on the printed directions it clearly said, "Do not follow sat nav - it will not bring you here."It was as we discovered this that we started to get phone calls from various people in various parts of Cheshire who were all following sat nav and were all lost - it was like a Treasure Hunt for people in posh clothes!

Nearly an hour later and we finally arrived - the poor bridesmaid was already now feeling sea sick and my Mum was panicking about what would happen if they had to break into her house. Just as we pulled up I saw my cousin who, being pregnant, would definitely still be driving later. We explained the situation and she offered to run me back to the house as soon as the keys were recovered. Luckily that was pretty soon as I had a text message saying that they keys were out, no windows had to be broken and they were with Mum's neighbour. My cousin and I jumped in the car and made the 25minute (non sat nav) journey back to Mum's house.

My cousin and I had a lovely chat on the way - she drives like a maniac - which was useful in the situation and I'm sure when she needs a new career as a rally driver she will be in hot demand. And her language - goodness me, I learned lots of new swear words. We drove past a lovely looking garden centre and I made the mistake of saying how nice it looked - to which she replied, "Stop that now - you are a parent, you are not retired!" and carried on driving.... An old man in his Toyota pulled out in front of us.. "Oi Yaris" she shouted, "I've two words to say to you, the second one is 'off'.. you can choose the first!"I sat quietly for the rest of the journey...

We got to Mum's and sure enough the keys were out. One of Mum's neighbours has an industrial magnet and he simply put it through the letter box on a string and pulled the keys back out. I don't know anyone else who has an industrial magnet in their garage but thank goodness my Mum's neighbour does!

I jumped into my car and went back to the venue. As I pulled up I realised that everyone was already seated and they were waiting to be fed - but they couldn't start because I wasn't there.... I'm sure that made me very popular - firstly my sister made them wait in the church and now they were waiting to be fed - there was a lot of waiting that day.... and I did a lot of driving!!!!!!!

But we all sat down to a traditional afternoon tea - canapes, sandwiches, sausage rolls, hot buttered crumpets and cream cakes - it all went along with the summer theme. It was lovely and very civilised.

We then got up to do the speeches. I was going first and I can honestly say I was terrified - it really is scary talking in front of so many people, especially when so many of them know you and are quite happy to heckle. But it seemed to go ok - and people laughed in the right places and seemed to enjoy it - I don't think I went on for too long and lots of people afterwards said how much they enjoyed it - although they may have just been too polite to say any different.

My poor brother in law on the other hand was so nervous he could barely speak - but he was lovely and everything he said came from the heart - which is what a good groom's speech should be. I think my sister liked it - although she did keep telling him to 'speak up' - but he's going to have to get used to being bossed around - after all he married her!

The Best Man was rude and funny and everything that best men should be - it was a lovely atmosphere... and in reality he was as nervous as I was - when we compared notes afterwards we realised that we were probably the only people in the room who hadn't had a drink yet (excepting my pregnant cousin of course). Looking back we needn't have worried - even my Uncle kept quiet and didn't heckle - although my Aunt tells me that was because she had her hand tightened around his nether regions and if he looked like he was about to say something she would just give him a little squeeze to remind him of the consequences - I think that is the secret of many a happy marriage - knowing who is in control....

By now we were all ready to party....

The Wedding - Part 3 - The Church

The car pulled up to the church and there were a gaggle of girls eager to help my sister out of the car and sort out her dress etc. A very irate vicar was standing outside looking at his watch and I knew we were in trouble...

Papa ran inside to tell everyone to get ready, As he ran I grabbed him and hissed, 'Buttonhole - I need your buttonhole!" He is such a sweetie, he unpinned his flower (which had been practically stapled to him by my cousin) and pinned it to my jacket just as my sister arrived at my side - the page boys and flowers girl stood in front of us - as planned my two were at the very front where they could do the least harm - although to be honest, once they had seen how many people were in the church they were suddenly very quiet, "Just remember to walk slowly," I advised quietly before we left, 'You'll be fine."

I went to take my sister's arm as we had practised and she whispered, "I'll have to hold onto you, I'm terrified I'll fall over my dress but if I hang onto you then you can catch me if I topple over."I hooked my arm through hers as she held the dress up slightly with her left hand and we took our place at the church door.

My nephew and the flower girl were ready, my sister took a deep breath as the wedding march played and we began our walk towards the aisle. We walked towards the main aisle across from the church door and the children took the turning to the right to walk through the congregation. Unfortunately my nephew and flower girl turned left (they obviously thought they were on an aeroplane) and my sister and I rushed forwards to grab them and put them back on the right track - it was a lovely way to enter the church, the congregation laughed, my sister laughed, everyone just seemed to relax - I guess the 20minute wait for the bride had been quite stressful and this was a fantastic way to bring fun and laughter back into the church.

The walk itself was lovely, so many smiling faces, people congratulating my sister as she walked, the words 'beautiful' and 'stunning' were heard many times across the church (I was grateful for their comments but felt they should really have been looking at my sister) - she was positively beaming - It was then that I noticed that she hadn't pulled her veil over her face, but I don't think it really mattered, it was only when we stopped and I moved in next to Mum that it was noticed - mainly because the bridesmaid whose job it was to straight my sister's veil stepped forward and then realising she had nothing to do tried to make it look as though it was perfectly normal to step in front of the bride and re-adjusted her hair... which looked perfectly natural, so was a good save.

The children sat behind us and were joined by Papa - they were so pleased with themselves. We stood for the first hymn. I say stood I was kind of standing at a strange angle as my Mum's hat was so huge (I think she could have received signals from outer space using it) that it kept hitting me in the face every time she moved her head. I looked at my sister and felt yet another tear coming on - I can honestly say I have never seen her look so happy.

We sang the first hymn, I think it was 'Lord of all Hopefulness', I say think because (and I hope I wont get into trouble here), but the bridesmaid on my left really couldn't sing. She told me later that she didn't really know the tune either but (please don't hate me) it was so bad and so off key that I started to giggle and then I couldn't sing. I tried to turn it into a cough but it just got worse, so I opted for tears instead, which was ok as I was actually wiping tears from my eyes, just tears of laughter. She is such a lovely lady and what she lacked in talent she certainly made up for in enthusiasm and in the end I recomposed myself and the two of us belted out the tunes as loudly and as coherently as we could.

I don't know if it was just me but the rest of the wedding seemed to go by in a blur - it wasn't helped by the fact that the vicar (who is a family friend) was now rushing slightly and even skipped his sermon - which may have been a blessing, who knows.

The service over we went to the back of the church to witness the signing of the register and all lined up ready to process back. That was no mean feat as there were about 20 of us in this tiny space trying to arrange ourselves into some sort of order, all I could remember was that I was bringing up the rear and accompanying the groom's mother. We walked through the church to a huge round of applause - again, I was pleased to be there, they really didn't need to clap but if I could bring just a little sunshine to their day I was happy to do so. We went outside, I looked to see if I could see the vicar to thank him but I think he had nipped out the back and was speeding away in his Ford Mondeo to his next wedding.

The children and I met up again outside the church. "Can we get messy now?" TJ asked. "No, you cannot," I snapped, "We have all the photos to do - loads of photos." "Photo's are boring!" exclaimed TJ. "Well, get used to it," I replied, "Because from now on the whole rest of the day will be about photos!" The man behind me laughed and TJ looked glum. But then all the children were given confetti and soon cheered up. Although we did have to point out that they were only supposed to throw confetti over the bride and groom - not over each other and anyone else who happened to be standing near!

More photos were taken and then everyone got into their cars to follow the bride and groom to the venue for the afternoon reception....

And it was then that the fun started....

The Wedding - Part 2

So the morning came for the big day itself - Prince William and Kate had nothing on the level of organisation...

We got up in the hotel and went down for breakfast - the wedding wasn't until 1pm and the photographer was coming to the hotel to take pictures of the groom, groomsmen, page boys etc at around midday - so my theory was that the longer we kept TJ out of his formal suits the better -  I would have preferred to change them in the car on the way to the church, but they were required for the pre-wedding photos so that wasn't going to happen.

After breakfast Papa and I went to get changed. The suits were all rental, as most wedding suits are, and we had tried ours on back in February and I knew that I had lost quite a bit of weight since then, so I was a bit worried that my suit would no longer fit - I had even bought a new belt, just in case. I needn't have worried, I got the suit out of the bag marked with my name and put it on. The waist was so tight, I could barely sit down and the waistcoat fitted like a corset - I couldn't even breathe, to say I was gutted was an understatement - 6 weeks of low carbs and no alcohol to actually put weight on. Papa was also having problems, he had to tighten his trousers and his waistcoat needed pinning at the back. 'They've given us the wrong suits!' I shouted, now getting angry. I called the groom, "Have you got our suits with you?" I asked, "No, I gave them to you last night," he replied, 'How drunk were you?" Admittedly I had drunk quite a bit the day before but was pretty sure I had collected the right suits. I checked again, yes the bags definitely had our names on them. I looked at Papa, "I'll have to go to Manchester and change them," I said, "I can't walk my sister down the aisle wearing this." Papa went online to see if there was a branch of the store nearby as I got the children dressed. As I did up TJ's waistcoat it suddenly hit me... "Papa," I said, "try my waistcoat on." He grumpily got off the computer and did so, "It fits perfectly," he said. I took my trousers off and handed them to him, "Lets swap suits." The upshot was that the suits had been labeled the wrong way round, which looking back seems obvious, but when you are juggling your own dress requirements with your kids then you tend to lose all grip on reality....

Properly dressed we went downstairs to get our buttonholes. But there was no buttonhole for me - I was walking my sister down the aisle without a buttonhole. "It's at the house," the Groom's father informed me, "It must have been put with the bridal party." It really wasn't a big issue except the photographer kept asking me to stand behind other members of the party to hide the fact that my buttonhole was missing. So I have a horrible feeling that when the photos come out you will only see my left ear in all the shots.. we shall see... but the TJ met up again with his cousin and the two of them were having a whale of a time. The atmosphere was light and relaxed - and, to cap it all, it was a beautiful sunny day!

After the photographer had finished I rounded up the page boys and headed off to Granny's house to join the bridal party leaving Papa and the grooms party to head off to the church....

I arrived at Granny's house with the very excited boys, suddenly there was a commotion in the back, "Uncle," came a small voice, "I think I need help."I looked in the mirror to see my nephew with the largest amount of snot I have ever seen in a child pouring out of his nose, I didn't have a tissue to hand and it was about to fall onto his new suit. I did what any parent would do, I put my hand out and caught the snot as it fell. Great, now I had to get out of the car making sure that the boys kept clean and that I didn't get my nephew's snot on my own suit. I raced into the house and into the downstairs toilet, and, be sure to take note, here begins the problems - I put my car keys down on the window sill in the toilet as I grabbed for tissues for my nephew and washed my own hands - my own children thought this vision of me juggling snot, keys and tissues was hysterical. I had just finished washing my hands when my nephew turned to me, 'It's happened again,' he said. And sure enough there was another massive globule of snot hanging from his nose - luckily one of the bridesmaids was on hand with a box of kleenex to help us both out...

I washed up again and went into the living room which was abuzz with make up girls, bridesmaids and photographers. I saw my Mum, "Where's your buttonhole?" she cried, "You should be wearing a buttonhole - you can't walk your sister down the aisle like that!" I felt as though I had forgotten my trousers... "Right, let's not panic," I said calmly (calm was to be my word for the day), "I can always take Papa's at the church if needs be - his ushering duties will be over by the time we get there." Problem solved - then I went into the study which my sister was using to get dressed. I opened the door and there she stood in her wedding dress - it was beautiful, she was beautiful - everything was beautiful and, I'm not ashamed to say, I actually welled up. I always wondered why people cried at weddings - now I knew. To say she was stunning is an understatement, her gown was pure silk with a lace overlay and her veil was under a pearl and diamond tiara. I even think she had had a wash...

The boys sat down to watch TV and eat crisps.

We were about to leave when the bridesmaids realised they had to pack all their stuff for the evening, so the taxi driver and I loaded the bridesmaid's mini bus (don't worry the bride had a limo) with all of their luggage - one bridesmaid had just had her baby and the amount of paraphernalia that goes with a new born is phenomenal - but we got it all in - at least we thought we did (again note that for later).

My phone then started to ring, we were now 15 minutes late and the ushers (and I guess the groom) were beginning to panic - the vicar had told us not to be late and it was now 1.15.... we got everyone into the mini bus and Granny, Lea and my nephew headed off in the limo, except TJ who was now best buddies with the photographer and went with her. I helped my sister into the car and got in beside her..

I gave her hand a squeeze, "Happy?" I asked her, 'Really happy," she replied simply, "really happy"... we pulled out of the drive and headed to the church...

The Wedding - Part 1

As blog posts are supposed to be short and easy to read I have decided to split my sister's wedding into a couple (maybe three) shorter posts - rather than one long marathon... a lot happened!

We went up to Cheshire - after the cake dropping incident - on Thursday. Luckily, my friend managed to re-ice the top two layers of the cake before we left that evening, the only problem was they had to be laid flat to dry and would have to be stacked at the venue itself. This meant that my entire boot space of the car was taken up by cake and I had to load all of our luggage, presents etc into the front of the car with the boys - luckily, Papa was coming up on the train on Friday night, otherwise there would have been no space! As it was the kids sat with their feet on their cases and no room to move.

We tootled up the motorway network and actually got to my Mum's by 10pm - but she was out with my sister for a 'bridesmaids' get together type thing and I had to get the keys from my Nan. Nan was asleep when I popped in - I was banging on the door for about 10minutes when I thought I would try the handle, sure enough the door was unlocked and I strolled in. Nan woke from the sofa, 'Oh, its you dear,' she said, 'I've been sitting up waiting, I was watching Poirot - I haven't seen this one before.' I looked at the TV screen - I knew it was an old Poirot as David Suchet looked thin, and it was still in the old square TV format. "I think it's been on before Nan,' I said. 'Well, I don't know who did it,' she replied. I wanted to say 'that's because you sleep through every episode' - but I didn't. At least she will always enjoy each show when it comes on - for the first few minutes anyway.

Papa is exactly the same, within five minutes of any crime thriller coming on he is fast asleep - he usually wakes up just as the detective has everyone assembled and is going to share his knowledge. It's at this point that Papa will ask what has happened and then I have to give a run down of each character, their motives and their possible reasons for murdering the 4 people he didn't see die anyway - thank goodness for the pause mode - afterwards Papa always says how much he enjoyed the show - which I know is a big lie!!!!!! He just enjoyed his sleep!

Anyway, we got the keys and let ourselves into Mum's house - we had been allowed access on the proviso that we kept the place tidy and didn't eat or drink anything, we were allowed the little packets of Kelloggs variety packs for breakfast but were not allowed the croissants etc that had been purchased for the morning of the big day itself. ASBO dog had been placed into kennels for the duration and was by now terrorising some other poor hounds at the local pet hotel.

Friday was the day of the rehearsal. We got to the church and sat there with the bridesmaids and ushers, a worried groom and my sister who was happily joking and messing around. The children met their cousin, my brother's son, for the first time and luckily they got on famously. My two then taught their little cousin how to walk rock star style down the aisle (apparently that was how you walked in front of your fans) - Mum chastised them at which point TJ folded his arms and strutted down the aisle with his arms crossed. 'Walk properly,' I said. 'Granny told me to keep my arms down,' he replied sulkily, 'so I am going to walk like this.' Previously, my two had decided that when they walked behind their aunt they would lift up her skirt to 'show everyone her knickers' - lucky for us all my sister had chosen to let the children walk in front of her so as to minimise any temptation. Good choice!

Anyway, we left a relaxed rehearsal with the jolly vicars' cry of 'Don't be late - I have another wedding at 2pm' ringing in our ears and we all headed off to the pub and the hotel where myself, Papa and the kids would be staying with the other groomsmen etc.

I went to get Papa from the station and we met everyone back at the hotel for the pre-wedding dinner.

So far.... so good... but the next day was the big day itself...

The big day is nearly here......

Yes, after all the planning and preparation, the day of my sisters wedding is nearly upon us and the boys are getting ready for their day in the sun (hopefully) as pageboys.

The boys were both getting a little anxious, especially TJ. I sat down with him yesterday before we left and asked him what was on his mind as he was unusually quiet... Quiet always worries me... "I've been to a wedding before," he said, "what will this one be like?" So I explained about the church and what page boys do... He thought about this and then said, "but will there be a party afterwards? It's the party bit I don't want to go to."

It was as if a light bulb went off, and tied in with something Papa had said earlier in the week about being wary of the boys behaviour on the day itself. The last wedding TJ went to was that of his birth mother and step father. By then the children were already in care and they were accompanied to the event by their social worker. Unfortunately, there was a huge fight between the 'families' at the party and the police were called and the boys had to be hurried out of a back door. TJ has memories of this, mainly as there is a lovely picture of them with their birth family in their life story books... Obviously taken prior to the consumption of cheap alcohol!

So TJ was reassured and we practiced 'walking down the aisle'. TJ seems to have the idea of a page boy confused with that of a rock star... He strutted down the aisle giving 'victory v' signs to his 'fans' and then asked if it would be okay if he 'gave high 5's to those sitting on the aisle." After I stopped laughing I told him he had better check with his aunt on that one....

So yesterday we came up to Grannies in the car. I had to collect the wedding cake which has been lovingly made by myself and Papa and iced by a good friend (I didn't want to take the risk on icing it myself).. I had a shock in the morning when our friend called me and told me that the cake had toppled over... We went into major panic mode... This type of thing only happens in sitcoms... The cake was being transported back to our friends shop by her husband, he took a corner too sharply and the top layers slid off, luckily they were in a box, but the icing was damaged. Major panic, could we delay going up to my Mum's?What was the latest we could leave? But my friend then surveyed the damage herself and, after telling me that her husband had 'dramatised' the event, came back from London especially to re-ice the cake. It was then left to set in my car and we will have to assemble it at the venue... Luckily, Granny is free so she is coming to help... Phew!

Well it wouldn't be a wedding without a little drama, lets hope that is all the drama we get this time.... I don't think my heart will take anymore!!

I probably won't get time to blog again until Monday... Hopefully we will have lots of positive things to say and the children will behave themselves and not 'lift aunties dress to show everyone her knickers' (thank goodness we talked her hubbie to be out of wearing a kilt!).

I'm off to practise my speech now... Did I mention I was walking my sis down the aisle?... And giving the speech! As an actor I have performed in front of thousands, I have presented alongside royalty and sung for the Queen and Presidents... But speaking in front of my family... That terrifies me!!!

School is upon us!

Thank goodness, the kids go back to school tomorrow... I can breathe again...

Oddly enough, when I told them about this the children seemed to have completely forgotten that school would be re-opening after the Easter break.

I wouldn't mind but at one point I was actually having a stand up row with my seven year old both shouting at each other regarding the fact that he would be returning to school tomorrow.
At one point I thought pantomime season had come early as I stood there shouting, "You are going back I school!" "Oh no I'm not!" Came the reply... "Oh yes you are!" I shouted back....

LKC has been so mean to his little brother today. I can only assume its due to the holidays coming to a close... After playing in the garden all day (it's finally sunny) I told the children to stop playing their computer games and tidy up their toys on the lawn. KC came down and dutifully put his toys away. "Where's TJ" I asked. "He said he wasn't coming," said KC, " he wants to keep playing the wii." "Fair enough," I said, "in that case when you have finished in the garden KC you can go back and play the wii while I have a chat with your brother."

KC cleared up in record time and shot back up the stairs to the playroom.

I came up a bit later to see only KC playing... I then heard crying coming from TJs room. I went in to find him sitting on the floor in his pyjamas bawling his eyes out. "What happened?" I asked, "and why are you in your pyjamas?" He looked at me tearfully and said, "I didn't hear what you said when you shouted at us to come down and KC said you told me to go to bed... So I did... But then I didn't put my toys away so now I'm not allowed to play on the Wii either."

So KC had fooled me and his brother and now had the Wii all to himself. He was happily playing the game while singing along. I soon put a stop to that... "Come on young lman, time for bed." "But it's still light outside," he said. "It's a school day tomorrow," I told him, "back to normal bedtimes now!"

KC stopped singing and looked at me... "No, I'm not going!" he shouted... Great, back to square one!... "Oh yes you are....."

Mini Performance

Today was Lea's performance at her drama group. The culmination of a three day workshop and Lea had the lead! Yes, my eldest child was playing the role of the naughtiest boy in the class (Lea always plays a boy as regular readers know), a boy who didn't listen to grown ups, was rude to his friends and only liked to eat and sleep... Typecasting really!

After TJ's running critique at last year's show (see The Performance) I briefed him in the car to sit still and not speak until after the show. I was so busy explaining why the rest of the audience might not appreciate his opinion that we were nearly late. Luckily, the impossibly cheerful drama teacher came out and made sure we were seated before they began.

TJ dutifully sat very still huddled up to me watching his older sister/brother perform. Lea was, as usual, amazing. She captured every nuance of his character, she embodied the role and allowed the character room to develop. Apart from the time that she looked over at me and winked! But I shall overlook that, it was probably in character and anyway she was superb and one day she had better live my dream for me!

At the end the audience gave a huge round of applause... Apparently there were other children involved in the performance, they were obviously there to make my Lea look good. TJ didn't clap. I leaned over, "it's ok," I told him, 'you can clap now.'
'I don't want to,' Came the reply, 'I only want to clap for Lea and I shall do that in the car.'
At least he was sparing the other members of the group his disdain... So I guess that's a step in the right direction.

Discipline - part 2!

Aaaaargh!!!!!!!

I hate holidays!

Well, that's not entirely true. I love beaches and nice hotels and good looking staff who come and spritz your face with evian while getting you your favourite tipple and the only problem is what to order for dinner  - those sorts of holidays I love.. school holidays spent at home are a nightmare - especially after the first week or so!

Today it is TJ's turn to require the firm hand.

To be honest, he has been lovely all morning. Lea had a drama workshop for three days and whilst Lea is out TJ tends to be a lovely angel of a child - today he did all his homework (yes, at 7 he gets Easter homework, Mr Gove would be happy) and learned his 2, 5 and 10 times tables - he even asked me to test him. As a reward he got to play on the wii for an hour.

There was an ulterior motive on my part, as TJ played quietly in the play room I could get on with writing the speech I am giving at my sister's wedding next week. But all was ok. I wrote the first draft, TJ had fun and then we went and collected Lea from her drama group before coming home for lunch and then taking the dog for a walk along the river... all good... until we came back and I went into the playroom to discover that whilst playing his game TJ had also been quietly unravelling the rug.... bits of wool were everywhere...

He is younger than Lea and has his own learning difficulties, so I do tend to be a little more patient with him. 'What happened here?' I asked him...

He was silent... I looked in the doorway where Lea was eagerly waiting to see her brother get punished (don't you just love sibling rivalry). 'Go and find something to do,' I told her. "I'm ok watching." came the smart Alec reply. I put on my stern voice, 'Now!' I said and off she dutifully went. Although I knew she was listening around the corner.

Turning back to TJ I said, 'Ok, tell me what happened here....'

And now the fun begins. Story after story came out of the little mouth. 'It did it all by itself when we went for a walk." 'I think one of the DVD's got caught in it." "It got a bit unpicked and then fell apart - it is old."

I listened patiently and then became all Captain Von Trapp with the strawberries that turned blue... 'Maybe, ' I said, "Maybe, you were sitting there doing nothing at all when suddenly the rug started to unravel and the dog came in and she started to pull at the string and then the dog saw the fun game on the TV and got excited and pulled even more...and my rug then fell apart?"

I could see TJ's brain processing this. "Yes,' he finally said, "Yes, I think that is what happened."

'Well, in that case," I replied, now fully in role, "We had better stop playing exciting computer games in case you or the dog get over excited again. I think now we should only do quiet things in the playroom like reading or stamp collecting." (I don't know where the latter came from.)

TJ immediately started to cry - practically on cue and much more realistic than snotty little Gretle in the movie. 'Ok,' I said calmly, 'You have 10 seconds to tell me the truth or you will be in big trouble."

To be honest its an old rug and I'm not overly concerned but the point is that I was being blatantly lied to. Unfortunately the lies continued, 'The corner of the rug came undone by itself." 'Perhaps my guinea pig got out" and my personal favourite, 'Maybe we have a ghost."

So now TJ is sitting behind me on the bed having a 'time in' whilst I write my blog and he thinks about what he has done... What child ever truly 'thinks about what they have done'?

...

But now I have finally had the truth out of him. 'Yes, I did it Daddy,' he said, 'I just started to pull and then it just kept on coming and splitting up.'

'Thank you for telling me the truth, now what should your consequence be - as well as no more ii for the rest of today?" I then went onto explain that his consequence was actually for the lying, the no wii is for the rug... He thought about it, "I think I shall help with dinner and help you wash up." he said. Their therapist would be thrilled - they are suggesting their own reparation, where they have to do something good to make up for the damage they have done.

Of course, he may just be playing the game in order to watch Spiderman on tv - but to be honest I don't care - I think its a step in the right direction.....

Discipline...

Such an emotive issue.... everyone seems to have lots of advice... and the amount of people who say 'well, I was smacked as child and it never did me any harm etc etc etc...' as they twitch uncontrollably or flinch at the slightest door slam... I'm not looking for answers here - just off loading...

Papa always reminds the children that his father had a cane - not that it was ever used, but he doesn't tell the kids that bit - they just look at Grandpa with both fear and awe - admittedly it does automatically give him a certain respect in their eyes although I'm not sure what would happen if we actually saw this 'cane' or if it is just a figment of Papa's imagination.

Although the cane is still widely used in Singapore schools (the very schools Mr Gove thinks we should be emulating) - when I first arrived as a teacher there I was stunned to see a line of little boys being lined up in their primary school assembly to have their legs whipped with a huge cane brandished by the discipline master. (I'm sure Mr Gove wasn't shown that as he toured some of the most expensive schools in Singapore) It wasn't my place to comment of course, but the lady I was working with cried all morning. Again, I can't really comment on the whys and wherefores as, to be honest, one of the things that makes Singapore such a great country to live and work in, and visit is the respect for authority that must have been instilled at a very young age - after all, how many tourists come back raving about how clean it is and how polite everyone is - those things don't just happen overnight. Then we look at our own streets and moan about the dirtiness , the graffiti, the groups of teenagers with nothing better to do you can see where the comparisons can lead you - at least in Singapore the teenagers are studying like mad to get their expected results. I'm sure many of my Singapore friends will be able to add their stories and experiences, so, as I say, I'm not making any judgements here. But it does highlight the differences in discipline that Papa and I both have.

I'm not saying for an instant that Papa would cane the children - he hasn't got it in him, under all that bluster he is a big softie... but today.. today I could quite happily have led TJ to the discipline master myself!!!!!!!!!

I have always promised that I would never smack the children but would reason with them and explain exactly why what they were doing was wrong.. I hear loads of you falling about laughing as I write that - and to be honest, today I can agree. Obviously, for our kids it is slightly different, where my own parents would have given me a quick smack and sent me to my room (I'm of that generation) we know that for many children who come into care that they were beaten and didn't know when the smacking would stop, they were also locked in their room for days on end, TJ has a habit of eating blutac if you leave him in his room for too long - so that form of discipline would probably send them into a spiral of despair or fear... or something similar. But then what are you left with? We do practise 'time in' where the boys have to sit next to us when they are naughty (or 'make poor choices' as we don't like the 'n' word). This means the boys sit quietly while I do something boring - like write my blog. Hence Lea is currently sitting on the bed behind me staring at the back of my head - I can feel the daggers hurtling into my back from her eyes - as she has been grounded and lost her privileges for today (no TV or computer games).

This form of discipline works well for now - but what happens as they get older? I know that our kids are easily led and will happily stray away with the sorts of children who will lead him into trouble - so where do we go from here?

Today I can see the argument for a short sharp, and probably painful shock, but I don't think that in the long run it will do any good so I step away from it... I just don't know what to replace it with.

What was his crime.?.. She got angry with her brother in the park - so threw her scooter at him... and then in a fit of rage threw the scooter down the hill and then kept picking it up and throwing it further trying to break it. When she realised I was watching she just said, 'Why are you looking at me - it's mine and I'll break it if I want..."I grounded her there and then, unfortunately for her, her best friend (and someone I would like for him to spend more time with) came around the corner and asked if Lea wanted to play - Lea's face lit up, the demon was gone and my little girl was back - but I had already made the punishment (or 'consequence' as we don't like the 'p' word either) and had to stick by my guns - hence a really upset little girl is sitting behind me willing me to explode!

What is gratifying is that she is obviously showing remorse - I would be really concerned if she simply didn't care about the consequences of her actions... hopefully, that will be the saving grace.

Easter Holidays and Illness Do Not Mix....

I have a cold...
TJ has a cold..
And as of this morning, Lea has a cold as well. We are up to our ears (and noses) in snot!

Unfortunately TJ has had the cold for the entire week - and being asthmatic it tends to go straight to his chest which means he spends much of the night lying awake and coughing - and if TJ is awake then so are we!

Papa has been great this weekend though - he looked after TJ for most of the night on Saturday evening and on Sunday morning he sent me back to bed whilst he got on with being the parent in charge. I even got a coffee in bed although I was summonsed to prepare lunch - which is a good job otherwise our Sunday roast would probably have been take out pizza... I am not a fan of giving the children junk food, although it would probably have been a popular choice as there would have been little or no chance of brussels sprouts appearing on the plate.

But this morning Papa had to return to work as normal - although I imagine he was glad of the rest. However, Lea decided to fill Papa's shoes and bring me a cup of tea. It was very sweet of her but then I remembered that she is not allowed to use the kettle, so I prepared to get angry with her. 'It's ok, Daddy,' she said, pre-empting my rage,' I didn't use the kettle I just waited until the tap got really hot and used that water.' I smiled benevolently and sipped the lukewarm dishwater masquerading as tea... 'delicious,' I smiled as I sipped the tepid pale brew. She stood smiling at me watching me drink it for what seemed like an eternity before she left the room and I could tip it away.

The holiday is now dragging - the British weather doesn't help. We went for a walk - just to get out of the house and TJ had barely taken four steps before declaring that it was too cold to be outside and that we should get our exercise courtesy of the wii in the comfort of the playroom. TJ loves the wii... especially the football games.. although he has to win and if he doesn't then tears follow - we have a box of tissues on standby ned to the console just in case.

Oh well, I am killing time while parenting the best way I can when I am under the weather. One child is in front of the TV the other is on the... yes, you've guessed it... the wii!

Easter Holidays and an April Fool

Well, Easter at Granny's went without any real problems. The children were as good as gold. We even took them to the local church for the Easter service. It was the same vicar that baptised the kids last year so TJ was a little concerned that he was going to have his 'hair washed' again. However, he soon got a little excited when we told him we were going to be singing in church. 'I hope we sing Lord of the Dance," he said, 'Or Give Me Oil in My Lamp, I know those two." He wasn't too happy when Granny explained that the vicar probably didn't take requests. I, on the other hand hand, spent much of the service concerned that TJ was going to stand up at any point and either give his critique or demand his request is sung.

The rest of the long weekend was lovely, even my mother's ASBO dog behaved herself, most of the time - the children ate far too much chocolate, which was to be expected. But we were able to use the chocolate as a bribe for anything - vegetables that needed to be eaten, chores that needed doing - I love Easter!

Easter Monday was a Bank Holiday here in the UK, it was also April Fool's Day - I love April Fool's Day - but all my friends are now wise to my tricks - Papa even has an alarm in his iphone that warns him that the day is approaching. That's because one year, early in our relationship, I put all the clocks forward three hours in the house and when the alarm went off at his usual time of '6am' Papa quickly got up in a bleary state muttering about how ridiculous it was to be up so early in the dark and how he felt like he hadn't slept a wink. I waited until he was in the shower before I shouted out 'April Fool! and told him it was in fact only 3am! He wasn't best pleased.

Or my friend back in Singapore - where as actors we had clothing sponsors - usually Guess or Top Man (such glamour) well, I called my friend and told him he had to get down to the main Hugo Boss store before 12 as they were to be our new sponsors and he had to choose the clothes he required for the next photo shoot. I was in hysterics when he called me from the store saying that he had selected his clothes and gone to the counter with them - but they had tried to charge him and no-one knew about the 'sponsorship deal.'

Another friend got a text from me asking when I could buy tickets to her 'one night only' concert in Singapore, I told her I had seen the full page ad in the Straits Times that morning - she got such a shock that she ran down to the local store in her dressing gown to buy a copy of the paper. she called me back to ask where the advertisement was - I directed her to a page and told her to look at the date... I howled... so did she, although hers was in anger... Actors are so easy to fool, especially if they think it is about them!!!!!

My favourite though was when I prank called a female friend and told her I was a DJ from a London radio station and if she knew 'The phrase that pays' before I called back she could win £1000. She spent the next five minutes running round her house waking her flatmates up to see if anyone listened to this station and if they knew the phrase before I called back again at 7am. I wasn't welcome in that house for a long time!

This year I have two new 'suckers' - my kids! They spent nearly an hour in Granny's back garden looking for the Easter Monday 'surprise golden egg' that Granny had hidden out there. When I finally shouted out 'April Fool' CJ looked at me in complete disgust and slammed his way back into the house.TJ simply stared at me and said, 'Very funny.. now where have you hidden that egg?" I don't think he has quite got the concept of a practical joke yet....