How British Are You?

I've been thinking, dangerous I know, about the whole British/English thing. Mainly bought about by Andy Murray, the British Scot who nearly won a grand slam.

Now t'husband was firmly in Murray's camp from the off, because he's British. Me? Well I wasn't in Murray's corner until it turned out to be Federer he'd be facing, which is more a reflection on my opinion of the big Swiss cheese with his monogrammed blazers than any patriotism. Why, because to me Andy Murray is Scottish not British. He might be slightly more British if he spent less time complaining and slagging off the English and maybe if his shorts were a bit whiter, he always looks a bit grey and dindgy to me, he'll never get a washing powder commercial like Tiger Tim.

Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Murray, if anything I love it when he plays as he swears a lot and I imagine that there a lot of BBC bods crapping themselves that 'Disgusted from Milton Keynes' will be penning a letter to Points of View. I certainly have nothing against the Scottish or the Welsh or the Irish come to that but I don't consider myself British, I'm English and therefore am unable to support any sports team or individual who isn't English. What I hate is the absolute hypocrisy that a successful sportsman or woman is always British unless of course they happen to be English.

Bizarrely this is considered shallow from some people, but why? I've never met a Welshman who wanted Tim Henman to win Wimbledon. Sales of tinned Corned Beef went through the roof in Scotland when Argentina knocked us out of the Football World Cup in 1998. I don't have a problem with this, I like that the Welsh, Scottish and Irish are proud of who they are, I don't even care that they hate the English when it comes to sport. I get it, it's honest! I like that they can fly their flags with pride, whereas an Englishman who dares to fly the St George's Cross will practically be considered a fully signed up member of the BNP. What's that all about?

The Passing Hands of Time....

I've been lamenting, I know, I know, I shouldn't but I have...

I've just rushed to change the Sky radio over from Radio 1 to Radio 2 because I can't abide Fearne Cotton, she's too chirpy and well quite frankly - young! I am rewarded instantly by Ken Bruce playing an old Pet Shop Boys number and I am eagerly looking forward to Pop Master.

OH MY GOD! Somebody shoot me now!

I know that age catches up with you slowly but when you look back it seems like those years have been viscously stolen by some passing mugger. Surely it was only yesterday that I was out 'raving' all weekend. Surely it was just a couple of years ago when I saw Stones Roses at Spike Island? Is it really so long ago that I could wear a mini lycra skirt without looking like Liz MacDonald. Is it? About 20 years ago so... Yes!




I've been invited to a hen night in May, I feel obliged to go as it's t'husband's best mates wife to be and she came on mine to Berlin. It's in Birmingham, nice hotel, Japanese meal, few drinks etc with a spa facial the next morning, all good although I pity the poor girl who has to work on my pores after a night on the lash. The thing that worries me the most is the obligatory nightclub. Gah, firstly I doubt I'll still be awake after knocking back a few Pinot Grigios during the night and secondly it'll be full of young fillies in all their hair-straightened and faked tanned glory. I don't know how they do it, it must take them about a month to apply that many layers of mascara.

I am already thinking up excuses of how I can slip back to the hotel before I hand over an extortionate amount of money to fall asleep in a corner whilst dribbling to BassHunter. I wonder if I can persuade them back to a quite corner of the hotel bar where I can wobble back to my room quietly, without having to embarrass myself by trying to dance to toons I've never heard of in heels I can't even stand in.

Is there an age limit for nightclubs, how old do you have to be for it to be uncool to be seen in a nightclub? I'm sure I must be about there.

10 Free Things That Make Me Happy

Hello, remember me? It's been a while.... I wish I'd been up to something remotely interesting instead of writing some new posts but I haven't, I've just had a severe case of bloggers block. Thankfully some of you lovely bloggers/twitters out there have come to the rescue and issued a few memes my way.

The first is courtesy of the lovely mammydiaries and she challenges me to list 10 free things that make me happy. I reckon this one will be quite easy.

1. My morning family cuddles. T'husband makes us a brew and we all snuggle up in bed with Joseph in the middle for about 20 minutes before the morning mayhem ensues.

2. Losing weight. Nothing makes you feel better about yourself than stepping on the scales and seeing those numbers getting lower and lower.

3. Knitting - not sure if this is technically free, but I love the sense of achievement you get when you've sewn on that last button and it's ready for someone to wear.

4. Cooking smells. OK some are not so nice, but bacon butties, Sunday Roasts and fresh bread are all heaven sent. Or should that be heaven scent?

5. Landscapes. Lush green rolling hills, rugged mountains, sea scapes, it doesn't matter so long as there aren't any ugly buildings in eyesight.

6. Our bougainvillea. True Mediterranean flora growing on our terrace, it's my second baby. Wish the Lime tree was faring as well.

7. Watching Joseph laughing and playing with his friends. It's been a tough ride for the little guy with the language barrier making him an unpopular choice of playmate but he's persisted and it's starting to pay off.

8. Random and unexpected acts of kindness. Makes an old cynic like me believe in the world, we should all do it more often just because we can.

9. Sex. A good old fashioned knee trembler cannot fail to put a spring in your step.

10. Laughter. With friends, with t'husband, with Joseph.



The next meme is the Favourite Photo Meme. I was tagged by the lovely Insomniac Mummy but I believe it to be the brain child of Tara @ Sticky Fingers.

I've had this one sitting around for a while because it's been hard to choose and because I only have recent pictures on the 'puter. I have thousands gathering dust in my Mum's attic which I really, really need to bring over here. I miss getting them all out of their sleeves and laughing at the silly hairdos and clothes we used to wear. Oh and how skinny I was back then..... *violin strikes up*. Somehow digital photos don't hold the same magic, maybe because I see them all the time on the screen saver they lose their appeal, or maybe I am one of those people who need to look with their hands, I dunno, anyway I am waffling....



I've gone with this picture for a couple of reasons. Firstly it's a lovely snap shot of Joseph and his Papa doing boy type things. Secondly, it's a reminder to me that there are plus sides to living here, the photo was taken last February, it was a lovely warm day and we live 5 minutes drive from the beach.

The Little Things I Miss….

Proper bacon butties on a soft white bun
Greasy spoon caffs, the crossword in the Sun.
Office gossip, discussing last night’s TV
The little work crushes and builder’s tea.

Boots the Chemist, Greggs sausage rolls
New M&S pants to replace mine with holes
Football away days, the Balti pies
Wins over Derby and FA cup ties

Nights out with pals, going to gigs
Hailing a taxi and getting pissed.
A decent hairdresser, good shoe shops
Stilton Cheese and a thick Barnsley chop.

Carpets in winter to keep your feet warm,
Electrics that don’t go off every storm
Cool green grass, a vegetable patch
Driving past cottages with a roof of thatch.

A good sense of humour, a dirty joke
Speaking the same language as other folk.
I think you can tell from this poem’s tone
That the thing I miss most, is home.


This attempt at poetry was written for prompt 2 of Josie @ Sleep is for the Weak's Writing workshop. Go take a look!

This Is Not a Soft Porn Site.

No Sir, not even a little bit. Firstly I want to offer you my most sincerest of apologies, I see now that calling my site 'Very Bored Housewife' may make you think that this blog would be choc-a-block with photos of me provocatively posed and dressed in cheap red nylon underwear. I can sense your bitter disappointment when you realise that it is actually just some homesick bint chuntering on about cheese and not 'that' kind of cheese either... If you'd have paid any money to visit this site I would offer you a refund but thankfully you haven't so I don't need to.

However, even if my unfortunate choice of blog name makes you think that you'll get a glimpse of my wobbly thighs o'er an opaque stocking, it doesn't really give you the green light to start messaging my friends on my facebook page. Even if they do have a pair of black stilettos as their profile picture.

To this end I have changed the name of my blog and facebook page to 'Very Bored in Catalunya' as seemingly the words 'bored' and 'housewife' together are a bit of an invitation to horny men in Derby and Sheffield. Apologies to anyone who's been spammed by someone looking for a 'good time' via my facebook page, hopefully the change of name and better privacy measures will put a stop to it.

So just to re-iterate, I may from time to time talk about tits, underwear and other random lady bits but you will never, ever see a photo of them. Sorry but I am just not that kind of girl. I'm a lady!



If any clever techie out there can tell me how I can painlessly change my url I would be most grateful.

The Big 'D'

It is crisis time over here at VBH HQ, nothing in my beloved winter wardrobe actually fits. I cannot get into a single skirt and the only dress that fits is the accidentally bought size 14 one. T'husband is sick of the sight of my one dress and I am sick of the one pair of jeans that still fit over my triple sized arse. Time for some action. The newly purchased Wii Fit thingy tells me (with an expanding Mii in case I didn't realise) that I am overweight, have a BMI of nearly 27 that should ideally be 22. It also informs me that I should be about 57 kilos, 13 shy of what I currently weigh or 2 stone if you'd rather. Holy Shit!

So target set - lose 2 stone by May to coincide with a planned trip back to the UK. That's 5 months away, so not unachievable and hopefully by doing it slowly I can tick all those clichéd boxes and change my lifestyle and eating habits forever, blah blah blah.

I've identified my weakness - that'll be food! No seriously, I've highlighted carbs, portion sizes and an over-fondness of white wine as my major issues oh and that little thing called exercise, as in I didn't actually do any!

I have decided that for the month of January that there will be no mid week drinking, and that weekend drinking will be confined to red wine only, no white wine. At all! The Davina Super Body Workout DVD has been broken out of its cellophane and a Wii Fit Balance board purchased. On top of this I am operating on a 'no carbs with evening meal' regime with a view to it becoming a 'Low GI evening meal' regime once I've got a few kilos kicked into touch.

So, almost one week in and so far so good:

Carb free evening dinners - 6
Midweek Alcoholic drinks - 0
Wii Fit sessions - 2
Davina sessions - 2
Hurty muscles - lots
Swear words uttered - too many to count

But...

Kilo's already lost - 0.8

2009 Highlights and Honest Scrap

Firstly Happy New Year everyone, hope your hangovers aren't too severe and if they are then do as I do and drink more!!

I was tagged by my old t'internet mucker Insomniac Mummy to come up with 5 highlights of 2009. Now as some of you might know I have not had the best of years, in fact it could be said that last year was probably one of the worst of my life. However, it's nice to be set this challenge as it makes me realise that there were some high points and it wasn't totally crap!

1. My big small boy starting school at the tender age of 3 years and 4 weeks old. He absolutely loves it, despite there being some issues with the language barrier. His little face alive with glee when he sees his best friend Miguel every morning has me bursting with pride and love for him.

2. A very lively July, which saw one of my oldest and best pals come to visit, followed by the lovely Abbie and Rachel with their gorgeous girls in tow. Joseph's very small bedroom only just managed to host 3 cot beds but he loved having the girls around, especially bath times and sing songs in the car. He still asks after them now.

3. After much pleading with t'husband we managed to get an unplanned fortnight back in Blighty in August. A week spent with the in laws in Yorkshire and then a week at my Mum's in Nottingham. I also managed to squeeze in a couple of meetings with some of my favourite internet mummies and do a bit of clothes shopping. Marvelous!

4. Joseph's 3rd birthday. Just at the age where he got it, he managed to secure 5 seperate birthday celebrations which included, the birthday bbq we always host over here, his actual birthday, a trip to Pizza Express with all the inlaws, a trip to see Milkshake in York and a party at my Mum's with my family. Hope he doesn't expect this every year.

5. New Years Eve. Whilst we had a lovely time around at friends getting thrashed by their 6 year old boys on the Wii it wasn't the actual evening that was so good, but more the feeling of utter relief that the year was over and an almost overwhelming positivity about what 2010 will bring.

I'll pass this bad boy onto the following (sorry if you've already been tagged) :

Carrot in Mums Hair
Bare Naked Mummy
Hibiscus
Mum's Gone To
E ora?
Lax Parenting

Phew that was bloody hard work and now onto an award that I've been hoarding under the bed for a while now.



Thank you very much to Emma at Me, The Man & The Baby and Carrot in Mum's Hair for bestowing such an honour upon me. I have to tell you 10 secrets (bloody hell, I thought the last meme was difficult), well I'll give it a whirl.

1. I have an appalling memory, both short and long term. I cannot remember the names of most of my teachers, I cannot for the life of me remember my home or mobile phone number and recently deleted a whole host of people from my facebook account who reckoned they went to school with me, as I have no recollection of them whatsoever.

2. I really, really, really want to move back to England. Probably more than any other single thing including having another child.

3. I have an irrational fear of the spy glass thingy in my front door.

4. I still harbour secret ambitions to be a gymnast.

5. Nine times out of ten I fall asleep during films.

6. I love Boney M.

7. I speed read books (and blogs if truth be told) and sometimes it bites me on the bum.

8. I once got caught shoplifting a can of hairspray from Superdrug, aged 14 (oh the shame). I have never been in a Superdrug since. Or shoplifted for that matter.

9. I could never and would never date a Derby County fan.

10. I have a little bit of a crush on (you know I've just forgotten his name so had to ask t'husband) Adrian Chiles.

Passing this little gem over to the following lucky bloggers....

Frazzled Daddy
Metropolitan Mum
Mummy Do That
Tattooed Mummy
Lost in Translation