Featured Archives : Me, Annie Bee.

The Christmas Experience at Lotherton Hall

Anna — Tue, 19 Nov 2024 15:00:42 +0000

Santa, Mrs Claus and the elves have landed in Yorkshire! From November 23rd right through until 5th January, you can step into Christmas in the spectacular grounds of Lotherton Hall. Tickets are available from £6.75 with Santa’s North Pole experience starting at £15.95. Booking is essential as places fill quickly! You can book your magical visit at thechristmasexperience.co.uk. We have been visiting the Christmas Experience at Lotherton for a few years now – it has always been the highlight of my festive period. Alas, my eldest is now ‘too old’ to indulge in such past-times and I did wonder if we would go this year. Luckily, a friend has a very young child and so we took her along and the festive magic was restored! IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! Step inside the Edwardian Hall and follow in the footsteps of the Gascoigne family and their staff, Lotherton’s residents in the 1800’s, to get a glimpse into how this revered household celebrated Christmas in Edwardian times. The festive woodland walk through the beautiful grounds of the Lotherton Estate is by far my favourite part of the whole experience, there’s nothing more snug than being wrapped up warm and following the lights to discover the installations along the trail – step inside a Christmas card, try to pull a giant cracker or maybe you’ll find the gingerbread house in the trees! Grab a warm drink from the cafe, yurt or one of the stalls to ensure your walk is super cosy. Be sure to take cash as some stalls don’t accept cards. After your walk, you can make your way to the Fairy Dell a tiny lit up secret fairy village alive with fairy chatter and laughter. It really is beautiful and the kids loved looking at all the little houses and shops. I must confess, at one point I found myself standing alone in the dark, surrounded by high pitch fairy chatter and it was a little creepy… Santa’s magical North Pole setting. The experience begins with a snowy walk to Santa school where we filled ourselves with Christmas cheer and each child created a lovely nightlight ready for the big night!! We then headed to the Magic Wishing Well, where each child quietly made a wish before being taken through to see the big man himself. This year, the cabin was more cosy and more festive than ever. I’m going to put it out there, the Christmas Experience at Lotherton is the best it has been – it feels like every year they step up and it becomes more magical. It is still my favourite start to the festive season. Tickets for the experience start at just £4.75 which includes entry to the Estate and Hall meaning you can do the festive walk and visit the Fairy Dell. Making baubles with Mrs Claus and the Elf crafts will need to be booked separately. Even without visiting the Big Man I do feel that the entry cost and even the extra costs for activities is worth it for a lovely visit. It’s also worth bearing in mind that if you are there before 4pm your entry cost will include entry to the wildlife area.

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The Perfect Christmas Cake recipe – IMHO

Anna — Tue, 26 Oct 2021 10:38:29 +0000

As a fan of Christmas I’ve tried to create lots of lovely traditions for us as a family and make everything just perfect. Since she was three, Aoife and I have always made and later decorated the Christmas cake together. It’s something we both really enjoy doing and it means I can use lots of lovely hashtags across social media, you know the sort; #preciousmoments #mumanddaughter #makingmemories #familytimes #lookatuspretendingwearetheperfectfamilywhenwewereyellingateachotheraminuteago The hashtags matter not, we have created a lovely tradition. The Perfect Christmas Cake I’m going to hold my hands up though, there is an ulterior motive to this tradition. The reason I actually let Aoife help me bake the cake and decorate it herself is so the rest of Christmas is mine. I am very particular with what I like and how I like it. No one decorates the tree but me. So when Aoife says “Mummy, can we have though blue sparkly baubles with cartoon characters on them?” I can chuckle and say “Oh darling, I didn’t interfere with your cake so don’t you interfere with my tree” Perfect! I’m not entirely awful though, I leave a special space at the back, middle of the tree for the lovely decorations they make at school. My quest for all things perfect at Christmas has resulted in me trying and tweaking many different recipes until they are just right. I like our Christmas cake to be nutty and not too moist. The recipe is largely Delia but with less faffing and a bit more rum. I did suggest to Rory that I use amaretto in the cake this year, it was a little too controversial for his liking. Below is the recipe Aoife uses. Once the cake is made she decorates it. I didn’t put that bit but you know because you are super. Perfect Christmas cake recipe ingredients 225g plain flour 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg 3/4 teaspoon mixed spice 225g dark brown/muscovado sugar 750g soaked dried mixed fruit 4 eggs – large 225g cubed butter 1 tablespoon black treacle 50g glace cherries – chopped 50g almonds – chopped 50g almonds – flaked zest of 1 orange and 1 lemon Perfect Christmas cake recipe – method Preheat your oven to 140º/gas mark 1 Line an 8 inch round cake tin with grease proof paper making sure that the paper comes about 4 inches above the tin Sift the flour and spices into a large bowl Add the sugar, butter, eggs, & treacle then beat it all together with a hand mixer or by hand Fold in the rest of the ingredients making sure they’re well mixed in Pour the mix into the prepped tin making sure it’s flat The grease proof paper above the edge of the tin needs folding toward the centre of the tin to create a roof effect with a gap for the hot air to escape and stop the cake catching Bake for 3¾ – 4 hours , use a knife or metal skewer to check it’s cooked throughout. When it comes out clean it’s done Leave to cool for 15 minutes then turn it onto a cooling rack Once the cake is cooled, pierce holes into the cake and brush with rum (or whatever alcohol you’re using). Wrap it in grease proof paper and place in an airtight tin. ‘Feed’ the cake once a week with a tablespoon of the alcohol you used for the cake. Note If you can’t source pre-soaked fruit, you can soak it yourself. Just put the fruit in a large bowl, cover with 100ml of alcohol of your choice and leave for 12 hours. Why not take a look at my other recipes here.

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Gingerbread House Recipe & Templates

Anna — Thu, 26 Sep 2019 14:49:43 +0000

Christmas isn’t Christmas without a Gingerbread House. Fact. Making gingerbread houses is the perfect pre-Christmas activity to do with the kids (or alone if you’re a perfectionist) As you know, I am a BIG fan of all things Christmas and a Christmas gingerbread house is on my list of things to make each year. I am really fussy about how I like my gingerbread (quite gingery) I found the Mima Sinclair recipe to be the perfect balance. Some years, if I’m particularly well prepared, I make both a big house and smaller houses to gift to others. The smaller houses are cute and can sit on your coffee cup too whilst watching a Christmas film. Parfait! This is the recipe I now use for my gingerbread houses, it makes two large houses and a few biscuits or around 20 small houses – the templates for the houses can be found at the bottom. Gingerbread House Ingredients 200g unsalted butter 200g dark brown sugar 80g treacle 60g golden syrup The zest of 1/2 an orange 4 rounded tsp ground ginger 2 rounded tsp ground cinnamon 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg 1/4 tsp ground cloves A level tsp bicarbonate soda 500g plain flour 1 medium egg, lightly beaten Royal Icing Sugar for decoration Gingerbread House Method Put the treacle and syrup into a large saucepan with the sugar, butter, zest and spices. Melt it all together over a low/medium heat, stirring until the sugar has all dissolved. Increase the heat and bring the mixture to boiling point. Remove the pan from the heat and beat in the bicarbonate soda. It’ll all fizz up, panic not (just watch your hands), mix until it’s all combined then leave to cool for about 15 minutes. Sift the flour and salt, fold it into the mixture in small batches. You can use a wooden spoon unless you have one of those big fancy mixers. I don’t. Once the flour is folded in, beat in the egg until just combined. Do not overwork the mixture. Scrape the mixture onto a clean surface and knead until smooth. The dough is really sticky but don’t add more flour – it’s meant to be like this. Wrap in cling film and chill for 1 hour. Heat oven to 160°C/140°C fan assisted/Gas mark 3. Line 2 baking trays with greaseproof paper or silicone tray liners. Use the printable templates to create card versions. I have included templates for small houses and big houses. Roll the dough onto greaseproof paper to a depth of 5mm. Use the templates and a sharp knife (I use a small craft knife) to cut out the pieces to create a house. Place on a lined baking tray and repeat until you run out of tray. Place the tray into the fridge or freezer for few mins and then pop them in the in the oven and bake for 5-6 minutes or until the edges turn golden brown. Use the your sharp knife to carefully straighten any edges that may have spread whilst baking. For smaller houses, make sure the doors are wide enough or they won’t fit on your mug. Leave to cool for 5 minutes on the tray and then transfer to a wire cooling rack. How To Build Your Gingerbread House Make up the Royal Icing as per the instructions on the box. It needs to make soft peaks in the bowl. You could make your own but I’m not the person to ask about how to do that! Put some of the icing into an icing bag with a small nozzle. Pipe icing along the side edges of the wall pieces and stick them to the end wall pieces. Pipe a little extra icing on the joins INSIDE the house for support. Ice along the top edges of the end wall pieces, where the roof will sit. Stick the roof pieces in place and hold for maybe a minute while it sets. On small houses, stick the chimney on. Use the remaining icing to decorate. If your roof doesn’t quite meet at the top, use icing to disguise it as ‘snow-lined’, icing along the roof edges can look like icicles. I sometimes use smarties for the roof and jelly sweets for windows – stick whatever you want on it! Leave to set for a couple of hours before moving them. Note – if you have made gingerbread biscuits too, they are lovely dipped in milk or dark chocolate. Gingerbread House Templates Just click the button and download your Gingerbread House templates here. Gingerbread House Template Mini Gingerbread House Template Why not check out my Christmas Cookie recipe and my perfect Christmas Cake recipe.

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My Name’s Anna – I Drink Too Much.

Anna — Mon, 23 Sep 2019 16:48:35 +0000

“Alcoholism is the most serious form of problem drinking, and describes a strong, often uncontrollable, desire to drink. Sufferers of alcoholism will often place drinking above all other obligations, including work and family, and may build up a physical tolerance or experience withdrawal symptoms if they stop.” Drinkaware. My name is Anna and I’m not an alcoholic though I did have to check. I do, however, drink too much. Far too much. I have drank excessively for about 12 years now. It started as a social thing – when I moved to Leeds I had to meet new people and being the socially awkward creature I was, drinking helped me to relax and ‘be more me’. This led to me worrying that I was a bit Fun Bobby, if I stopped drinking I wouldn’t be as much fun and so I kept it up. Back in those days I had people to impress and things I wanted to forget, I could think of no better way of doing it. As time has gone on my party days have gone but my drinking has continued. The bottles stacking up by the sink are ridiculous. Just a couple of glasses because I have a friend coming round, just a couple of glasses to relax after a tough day. Just a couple of glasses because it’s the weekend, just a couple of glasses because that’s what I do. More times than I care to admit, ‘just a couple of glasses’ has accidentally turned into a whole bottle. Drinking wine became my ‘thing’ (my brand?) there’s many a picture of me and wine, I even review it – that makes it ‘work’ right? In more recent years, alcohol has also been the only thing that eases the hip pain I’ve been suffering. There’s always an excuse. I have worried about my drinking habits for a long while now, I’m an educated woman – I know it’s not good for me. I’ve felt guilty about the amount I have drunk and vowed to cut right back, but I don’t. The truth of the matter is I quite like drinking and, despite knowing all the health implications, I just don’t care enough about myself to do anything about it. It seems I can never entirely get rid of my self destructive side. I’m also clever enough that I’ve always managed to justify it to myself and stop myself feeling bad: It’s not like I’m going out on weekend benders anymore. I can remember everything the next day so at least I’m not getting blind drunk. It’s not like I’m drinking neat vodka. I don’t drink in the morning so there isn’t a problem. Rory only thinks I drink too much because he is so super healthy and barely drinks himself. As if the excuses and self denials aren’t quite enough, I also loiter in a society where drinking is kind of par for the course. No one really bats an eyelid because I’m drinking wine and gin in suburbia. If I were living my old life in a council house drinking lager and vodka every night, I’m sure my drinking would be flagged as an issue more readily than it is now. That’s a whole other post though. So what’s changed? Why am I now concerning myself with my drinking? I would like to say I had a moment of revelation when I realised that spending a whole day thinking about having a drink wasn’t right; buying a bottle of wine after vowing not to drink for a day was a sign of weakness and contemplating ‘just a little drink’ while the kids are at school, as a liquid pat on the back for some personal achievement – like existing – isn’t normal behaviour (I haven’t succumbed). Those things weren’t enough. Long story short (I’ll write the long version soon) – I’m getting a new hip and the consultant told me I needed to lose weight and the only way I’d be able to do it was diet rather than exercise. It was really that simple. See, despite this great heft I don’t eat loads and so had to face up to the fact that most weight gain has come from alcohol. I found a handy calculator and worked out that I am consuming almost 4000 calories a week in drinking alone. That’s almost two days worth of calories. Getting a new hip is going to change my life and I am determined not to mess it up, I don’t want to be too fat to be operated on and the heavier I am the more chance I have of complications post-op. It turns out a leg I can barely lift was the kick up the arse I needed to reassess my drinking. We will gloss over the fact that this probably makes me a terribly selfish person. Please don’t take this the wrong way, this is not me outing myself and making a grand declaration of never drinking again. That feels entirely unrealistic and, if I’m honest, panics me a little. Rather, this is me just acknowledging I know I have an ‘issue’ and putting it out there in case someone else can, or needs to relate to it. Not being an alcoholic but drinking far too much can feel like a bit of a lonely place, it’s like help is there once you reach the tipping point but no one wants to reach that point. That said, on top of cutting my alcohol intake back drastically, I am going to take part in Macmillan’s Go Sober for October. I would, hand on heart, like to say this is an altruistic and charitable act but it isn’t. It’s an entirely selfish act because I know I will struggle and making it public knowledge will make me more determined not to shame myself by failing. Hopefully 31 days of sobriety will be enough to change my habits and help my weight loss – I’ll keep you posted! If you are concerned you might be drinking too much, Drinkaware.co.uk is a very useful site.

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A Solution for Man Spreading Angers Men

Anna — Mon, 22 Jul 2019 21:12:18 +0000

Recently, Brighton University student Laila Laurel won the Belmond Award at New Designers in London – a pretty big deal in the world of which she is part. Her submission, ‘A Solution for Man Spreading’ consists of two chairs – one for men and one for women. The one for men is designed in order to actively discourage ‘man spreading’, the one for women is designed to encourage women to sit in a ‘bolder and bigger’ way. I personally like the concept, the ideas and issues it raises about encroachment of personal space in public and how that makes us feel. Maybe it’s because I view it as an arty type rather than an angry man – I don’t know. What I do know though is that these chairs have been designed, created and considered innovative enough to have won a prestigious award. What has NOT happened is these chairs become law and about to be rolled out across the land. Though they exist as physical pieces they are still very much more a concept than an absolute. So what could be the problem? Bizarrely it seems a lot of people, mostly men, didn’t get this memo and have taken a very personal offence to Laila’s creation. Some men have been so very threatened by this pair of chairs (though choosing to focus on just the male one) that exists in an exhibition in London where they are rather unlikely to be or go. These men may never have to see or sit in the chair yet they are so cross that they have seen fit to retaliate with pictures of their dicks and threats of rape – yes, actual rape. Others have decided she is a man hater and declared that she probably ‘won’t get laid’ because of her desire not to have some stranger’s knee invading her personal space whilst pretending they have the hugest bollocks that can barely be contained. There is so much wrong with both of these responses and all those in between. Let’s start with the latter. Are there honestly still men who assume everything a woman says and does is with the sole intention of ‘getting laid’? Do they think we have ideas hoping they will render us desirable to them? Do they think I am writing this in a hope that someone out there will read it and think ‘well that’s the kind of woman I want to shag?’ (To be honest, the kind of man I’m talking about wouldn’t read this and if he did, he would declare me a fat, hairy, man hating feminazi who needs to get laid – I am not hairy and I am getting plenty thank you very much!) I digress. To assume every choice we make is done with the intention of appearing more desirable is frankly as ridiculous as the notion that in the 21st century women choose to shave or wear make up ‘for men’. Fuck that. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news gents but more often than not we just do things because we WANT to. We do these things for OURSELVES. Shocker. Though I find the notion of some men still assuming that all we do is to appeal to them rather unnerving. I find more alarming the retaliation by some men when they feel threatened by a woman. There are actual men out there who are so offended by a chair and the idea that a woman doesn’t like to have her space encroached, that they respond by threatening physical harm or sending unsolicited dick pics. Whilst this is massively disturbing in itself (as well as illegal), what is MORE worrying is that there are men out there who honestly view their penis as a weapon – as something to evoke fear. “You said something I didn’t like – look at my schlong and fear me” In the 21st century we have men – maybe they’re our brothers, our partners, our sons or even our dads, who believe that their penis makes them better, stronger and more powerful than us women and if we dare to disagree then they will use their strength and their penis to hurt us, to show us we’re wrong. I find this entirely baffling and I worry. Laila states that most of these messages are coming from 30-40 year olds – MY GENERATION. A generation with members who still believe that they can cut any woman down by simply owning (and waving around) a penis, like it’s more powerful than Thor’s hammer. For as long as there are pockets of men out there who think that, we will never have equality – we don’t have a penis and therefore we don’t have power or the ability to instil fear in others by threatening to violate them. This belief comes from somewhere though, there are parents or guardians or caregivers allowing this to manifest and it is down to us to stop it. To talk to our kids and make them realise that it’s not a power tool. It’s been a VERY long time since I’ve received an unsolicited dick pic (thankfully) but I’m rarely offended. Luckily I find the whole thing pathetic – like one of those ‘Wot No…’ cartoons. This isn’t me being smug, rather a whole lot of experience and conditioning has led me to that. I completely appreciate that not everyone has that luxury but maybe the way we start to resolve this is two-fold. Firstly we take the power back by pointing and laughing at an unsolicited dick pic, make them as worthless to us as the sender – granted this isn’t quite as easy with threats of rape but small steps may make a big difference. Secondly, and most importantly, we teach our boys that their penis isn’t a weapon to belittle and demean others and teach our girls that the penis isn’t something that should be allowed to make them feel fear. I know this is all easier said than done but we need to start talking and teaching to make sure our next generations don’t follow this path. Thanks to Erica – The Incidental Parent for sounding this out with me. We’ll put our faces on and teach our boys that strength doesn’t come from the penis and our girls that what you do, say, design or think is your right and shouldn’t be tempered or influenced by what ANYONE else may think.

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You Know You’re Getting Old When…An A-Z Guide

Anna — Wed, 19 Jun 2019 12:22:17 +0000

As I sit here listening to Pepsi & Shirlie Singing ‘Heartache’ I am full of mixed feelings. Part of me is super smug that I still know all the words 33 years after being released, part of me is harshly reminded that I am racing through life. 1986 feels like yesterday That’s what old people say! All the signs are sneaking in though, if you’re not sure where you stand on the scale of life – here’s an A-Z guide. You know you’re getting old when… Absentmindedness You forget why you entered a room and have to retrace your steps to try and find the reason again. When trying to attract the attention of a child you go through a list of names until you find the right one or settle on ‘Boy one!’. You ask someone to pass you the thing, the THING, that there – the stabby prongy thing for food! The simplest of words are impossible to remember. Bladder Male or female, young or old, parent or not. Whether we can no longer laugh, jump and dance or we find ourselves peeing at 2:30am every day – our bladder will serve to remind us that we are no longer youthful. Be it your prostate or your pelvic floor, this marks your journey toward old age! Comfortable Clothes Gone are the days of corsets and high waisted pencil skirts. It’s time to start dressing for comfort. We may try and maintain an air of glamour but comfort will win every time. Unfortunately, comfort comes at a price and it’s generally a bit Cotton Trader. Personally I have created a three phase day. Phase 1 is my human form, the clothes I wear during the day – clothes I like the look of. Phase 2 are the drab yet comfortable clothes, I’d rather not be seen in public wearing that but if there was an unexpected knock at the door I wouldn’t feel entirely mortified. Phase 3 – well, no one needs to see that… Duckface Those of us of a certain age know Duckface as the woman Hugh Grant jilts at the altar in Four Weddings and a Funeral. Now it seems to be the look the young of today are aiming for in their oh-so-natural selfies. Titter ye not, its all a bit Frankie. Eyebrows Who would have thought eyebrows changed with age? I like a decent brow (not a monobrow) I have never been one to pluck any more than a tidy around the edges. I certainly never punished my face with those ’90s surprise’ eyebrows – yet here I find myself twenty odd years later, colouring in my unpunished yet drastically thinning eyebrows. They go grey too, what’s that about? Furnishings You know you’re getting old when you find yourself inexplicably drawn to throws and blankets despite having no where to put them and no actual need for them. I leave IKEA believing that my bed is inferior as it doesn’t have eight scatter cushions. It is virtually impossible for me to walk past a throw cushion display without stroking at least one and I’m pretty sure that I need a tapestry Stag cushion maybe with a matching rug. Grey Hairs There are times when I spray dry shampoo on my hair and think ‘If my hair went grey like that at the front I would look totally distinguished, like an Arts Professor’, then I remember I am a natural blonde and that is not going to be the case at all. I wondered if I would go grey at all or if I’d realise. It turns out grey hairs are wily things and grow at about 100 times faster than regular hairs – at least that’s what the one I found the other day would suggest. Hot Flushes You know you’re getting old when you wake up at 3am every day with the feeling that your actual soul is on fire and trying to escape your body. It took me a while to realise is was hot flushes, initially I would wake in a panic that the house was on fire. The only logical explanation for such intense heat! Intolerance You put up with so much crap when younger for fear of offending someone. As we get older we become less tolerant, and realise, those people we’re worried about offending aren’t actually worth it. Whether it’s bitching, bullying, ignorant comments – there comes a point with age where you realise you don’t HAVE to put up with it and you are actually quite happy to vocalise this. It probably comes with being more comfortable and confident in yourself, it’s just a shame we’re not like that earlier in life. Juniper Mother’s Ruin! Gin is something I couldn’t abide in my younger days but as time has gone on and my tastes have changed (yes, taste buds ALSO change with age) I find myself actually quite fond of a G & T with ice and a slice of orange. I can’t be doing with all these fancy flavours, I just like a nice Whitley Neill original and slimline tonic. Kids No, I don’t mean becoming parents, aunts or uncles – I mean next level adulting. Becoming Grandparents, Great Aunts & Uncles. I SHIT YOU NOT, people I went to school with are now grandparents. GRANDPARENTS! If that’s not a sure sign you’re getting old then I don’t know what is! Lotions I have creams to firm my wobbly bits, make my skin glow, tighten may face and neck. I have lotions to remove my chicken skin, firm my bingo wings and make my cleavage shine. I own serums made of the fragile skins of some exotic almost extinct creature to make me look twenty years younger…none of it works. I still look 40 and despite moisturising daily, I appear to be turning into a lizard. Music It’s just not the same these days is it? Back in the day songs had a narrative, generally creating a false impression of love or heartache. Providing unattainable ideas about how simple it was to fall in love with a handsome man in a teen magazine – Morten Harket, I’m looking at you. Nowadays, thanks to auto tune, apparently there is no great need to be able to hold a tune or play an instrument – you know you’re getting old when you declare it ‘Noise’. New Fangled This roughly translates as ‘anything I don’t understand’ and is mostly used to refer to technology. Despite having made the transition from VCR to DVD, from cassette to CD, and from Teletext to the Internet, I find myself at a point where my brain is full and can’t keep up with all the changes in technology and I certainly can’t fix it. This is probably why I also find modern music so difficult – because I don’t even know how to access it any more! Out Out Those heady days – prinks in the house. A bottle of vodka seen off before heading out at 10pm, dancing the night away then being found sleeping on your boyfriend’s doorstep at 4am. Nowadays, a night out involves meeting early, having every intention of painting the town red. Instead we find ourselves at a shade of dark pink, realise it’s almost 11pm and head home. Periods We spend so much time trying to regulate and monitor our cycles. Feeling pretty smug when we manage to make social events sync with our menstrual cycle. Suddenly, as the years go by, we realise that those pesky periods are showing up as and when they please. There is no counting days or working out moons. It will arrive, stay as long as it chooses then leave. Heck it may do that twice in a month if it wants…or not at all. You know you’re getting old when your period becomes a law unto itself. Qualified Professionals Remember when Doctors, nurses, teachers, dentists and police officers were proper adults who instilled a lot of respect and maybe a little fear into us. Today, well, they are all so YOUNG. Don’t get me wrong, I still hugely respect them but I find it difficult to explain my ills to them. Picture the scene, I am six months post baby, my internal organs are trying to leave my body via my vagina and I have finally bitten the bullet and visited the Dr. I arrive at the hospital to be confronted by a twenty something year old man and his (what appeared to be) 15 year old student. Rather than be examined by the youngsters, I told them I was just fine and bid a hasty retreat! Repetition Last year was a big year for me, I got married and I turned forty – did I tell you I turned forty? More and more I realise I am talking to someone and they have this look on their face, I’ve told them this before – I am once again repeating myself. Depending on how much I want to annoy that person I will either carry on telling that same, probably dull, tale or stop myself and apologise. I mostly carry on. Sleep I used to like to burn the midnight oil, I would stay up late watching films or reading books yet still manage to get up in time for work without complaint. Now I can’t abide the thought of being awake at midnight, I start to feel twitchy if I’m not near my bed by 10pm and even after a solid eight hours sleep I am exhausted. It appears that as one gets older, there is no such thing as ‘enough sleep’. Tutting This one goes hand in hand with intolerance. Sometimes I just can’t help but audibly TUT when someone is being, well, a knob head. I used to hide it but with age the mask slips and I find myself tutting and eye rolling aloud. There is apparently no hiding my disdain anymore. Underwear Thongs are an infection waiting to happen and those fine lace bras offer no support whatsoever! Don’t get me wrong, I still like pretty underwear but my pants have gotten big and my bras more structured. Think body scaffolding – anything to make it look like my boobs hang out at the front where they belong Vision All the cool kids wear glasses. I’ve worn mine since I was in my twenties and I have no problem with that at all. Recently, I realised that working on a computer all day was playing merry hell with my eyes and so went for a check. The wonderful optician (who was about 17) did all the checks and then looked at me in a very sympathetic way. It seems that your eyesight has changed a little, it happens as we get…older. Have you considered bifocals or varifocals? NO BECAUSE I AM NOT A PENSIONER! I AM QUITE OK TO PUT MY GLASSES ON MY HEAD AND SQUINT A BIT WHEN CHECKING MY PHONE OR READING A BOOK THANKYOUVERYMUCH. Weight Even in my youth I was ‘festively plump’ I have endured it for years and come to realise I will probably never be slim. Actually, there was a few years when, I’m not going to lie, I looked GOOD. Unfortunately, I was on the kind of ‘diet’ social services would disapprove of and so it’s not a viable option anymore. One blessing of youth is the ability to shift a few pounds if you REALLY want to, then one day it stops. You can take your calorie intake down to 1000 for a few days and NOTHING. It stays. Age GLUES the weight to you. Expectations Whether it’s your expectations of others or yourself you get to a point in life where you realise you need to lower your expectations to avoid disappointment. You didn’t REALLY think I’d find an X, Y and Z did you?

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Annie Bee’s Colouring Sheets for Parents – Instasham

Anna — Tue, 30 Apr 2019 16:47:06 +0000

Welcome to Annie Bee’s Colouring Sheets for Parents! Here I create wonderful little pictures that you can download, print off, colour in and stick on your fridge. It’ll make a refreshing change to the weird abstract that came home from pre-school last week! Colouring Printables I’ve not done a colouring sheet for you for AGES because, y’know, life. I should imagine that every single one of us is guilty of using a filter or two on social media at times. I mean, a touch of Clarendon makes EVERYONE look better amiright? It makes sense, no one really wants to display the worst of life. We all want to look like we’ve got our shit together and are coping like bosses. It’s how we function out in the real world so it makes sense it’s how we treat our online life. Many of us would readily admit what we choose to share is a snapshot, a brief moment in a day and maybe with a little filter added. But we all have that one friend on our timeline. The one who tries to pass off every single ‘candid’ picture as #nofilter or #wokeuplikethis. In reality their beauty filter is set so high you can’t see where their face ends and their neck begins or whether they actually have a nose. They’re starting to look a little like Voldemort. There’s nothing wrong with using a filter at all, if a filter makes you feel happier about that picture then knock yourself out but please, don’t think we believe it’s au naturel. We believe that about as much as we believe you actually have puppy ears and hearts flying around your face. And on that note, I present to you Instasham – your latest colouring sheet. Print it off, colour it in and stick it on Instagram, or the kitchen cupboard – whichever. Instasham – Printable Colouring Sheet Don’t forget to check out my other colouring sheets beaches, Oranges and Bedtime – hours of fun!

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Is a six year age gap too big?

Anna — Mon, 22 Apr 2019 11:57:29 +0000

I was scrolling through Facebook the other day when I happened across a headline that read “Emmerdale grooming victim actor Joe Warren Plant, 16, in real-life relationship with 22 year old model” It was a slow life kind of day so I decided to click the link. It turns out that 16 year old Joe Warren Plant is an actor currently playing the role of a child being groomed by his female teacher. In actual real life he is in a relationship with a woman who is six years older than him and they have been dating for two years. “Wait what? So that means….?” Yes, he was 14 and she was 20 when they got together (though to clarify, he has turned 17 as I write). As I said, it was a slow life kind of day and so I decided to head to the comments – we all know that’s where the real party is at. You can probably imagine, it made for an interesting read. There was a lot more Get in there lad – lucky bugger than I had hoped there would be in the 21st century, then I reminded myself it was the internet and many people feel obliged to be idiots in this environment. Then there were a few people declaring it sexist – if the genders had been reversed with this age gap, there would be uproar. Finally there was a small handful of voices saying Does no one else find this all a bit…disturbing? These were my people. There were a few comments in agreement but by and large the general assumption was that the pocket of people who found it wrong should… get a life because it’s none of your business, besides there’s nothing to say they’ve even had sex. We were also reminded that a six year age gap between a 24 year old and a 30 year old would be just fine. And they’re right, it would be fine because neither part of that relationship would be a child. I was stunned at the refusal of folk to be bothered by the fact that an adult is in a relationship with a child – that in this instance the age gap wasn’t acceptable. A grown up was in a relationship with someone who would have been in Year 9 or 10 at SCHOOL when they met. The article and subsequent comments raised so many questions in my entirely baffled mind: Are people more bothered about the sexism than the child/adult relationship? If the comments truly reflect the thoughts of the comment makers then would they be OK with their kid having a relationship with an adult? What does a 20 year old woman have in common with a 14 year old boy who hasn’t even grown into his own face yet? Now, I know that it is sex with a minor that is a crime and not being in a relationship with a minor. I have no idea whether their relationship was sexual or not (and though I debated it, I want to keep this post ‘light’ and so will avoid throwing the P word into the mix for now) but I still can’t understand what would make a grown woman look at a school boy and think That kid is handsome – I want to date someone who will drink squash at the pub, can’t come out because he’s doing his homework and can only watch 12 rated films with me. It was acceptable in the 90s THEN I thought back to growing up in the 90s and realised this kind of age gap relationship was rife but with the genders reversed. When I was at school a lot of the girls went out with boys, nay, MEN who were considerably older than them and no one seemed bothered. I knew of a 14 year old girl in a relationship with a man in his 20s. Both sets of parents knew about it, knew they were having sex and just let them get on with it. HOW WEIRD DOES THAT SEEM? I as a teenager in school, ‘dated’ someone older than myself on more than one occasion. One my parents knew about and one they didn’t – both were very short lived and neither were sexual relationships. The first one was a ‘nice guy’ who I’d known for ages, we went bowling and met up a couple of times but quickly dumped me for someone his own age – which was the right and proper thing to do. He was an adult and I was, lawfully speaking, a child. What on earth could we have in common? I can understand it from my point of view, it made me feel mature. It also felt nice as a teenager to think that someone older, wiser and cooler thought what I had to say was important or interesting, but I don’t know what he got from the ‘relationship’ maybe it was just a boost to his ego*. The other made it very clear what he wanted from the relationship so it stopped very soon after it started but that was the more common type of ‘relationship’ that was going on amongst my peers and it seemed like it was largely acceptable. Our parents and schools never spoke to us about these things, about what was a suitable age gap for a ‘suitor’, whether it is because they didn’t consider it a problem or maybe because they didn’t realise it was going on. I don’t know. I don’t know if this is a reflection on the area I grew up in or the times I was living in but it was certainly the ‘norm’. At that time we hadn’t had the revelations of celebrity child abuse scandals, Me Too hadn’t occurred and maybe people really didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. Maybe men in their late teens and early twenties were considered OK because after all, many of our parents had a six year age gap or started ‘dating’ when they were in their teens. I also don’t know if my opinions are just me being older and wiser or a sign of how society has changed. Do we value our young people more these days or have a more refined opinion on what is right and wrong? Or, as the comments on the article suggest, has nothing changed. Are there still a large amount of people who think the relationship between a child and an adult is OK once they are teenagers? I think by writing this, I’d hoped to give myself a bit of clarity – it hasn’t worked. It has made sure that I’ll definitely be having these conversations with my children! There are so many worm holes I could have ventured down writing this but I have tried to avoid as I knew I would need to stop writing at some point. *Fun fact, we were at a recording studio and he whisked me to the toilet for a cheeky snog, I thought we were going to get back together. The next day he announced he was getting engaged and leaving to train to be a pastor. I had my very own, really shit, Fleabag moment.

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Being Forty is Fabulous – Comparatively Speaking

Anna — Fri, 15 Mar 2019 17:34:05 +0000

I must admit, that turning 40 did lead to a certain amount of maudlin and feeling sorry for myself at times (seriously, not one night of birthday drinks? Totally bitter). A mourning, if you will, for my long-lost youth. Recently though I’ve had a turn around. I’ve given my head a wobble and had a moment of clarity. It’s not actually that bad being 40 – I KNOW RIGHT?! Being forty is fabulous. Yes my chances of travelling the world, having an amazing career and being famous are probably long gone, but I am so thankful that I’m not young these days. But Anna I hear you cry Why wouldn’t you want to be twenty years younger today? Well, take a seat and I’ll tell you why… Dating Dating generally followed a simple step by step procedure. Step 1 – See someone you like, flirt shamelessly. They either roll their eyes and walk away or stick around to chat. Step 2 – Numbers are exchanged. Wonder if they gave you number to shut you up, that’s CLEARLY why they haven’t text after 12 hours. Step 3 – Text arrives and is responded to. Make judgement based on how quickly a reply is received. Too quick, they are desperate, too slow and they maybe aren’t as interested as you think. Step 4 – A few dates are had and either a relationship is formed or the decision to go no further is made and you head back to step one. These days it’s all done online – Tinder, PoF, Bumble, Grindr…they all sound like inappropriate Teletubbies to me. You scroll through, choose a jet-setting model, swipe right, message (aubergines don’t mean you’re having ratatouille for dinner) and meet up. There is an 80% chance they look nothing like their heavily filtered picture (did you really think they had puppy eyes?) and can’t hold a spoken word conversation. This is all too gritty for me. I much prefer the oblivion of being disregarded in public rather than someone looking at my picture and physically rejecting me with a swipe. The idea of chatting in a public are suits me more than messages where I can’t detect tone of voice or whether someone is genuine. Also, a bloke is less likely to wang his dick out in a crowded bar than in your DMs. Technology Specifically music (though my life feels like an abundance of mis-sent messenger messages at times). After our car was written off we had to get a new one. The one thing we were sure to check was whether it had a DAB radio – after all, we’re cool like that. It was only once we’d purchased the car we realised it didn’t have a CD player. WHAT?!? Being the modern sort, I knew I could hook my phone up to the car via Bluetooth – Excellent. I just need to pop some CDs onto my laptop and transfer them to my phone, it couldn’t be easier. What’s that you say? My new laptop doesn’t have a disk drive? SERIOUSLY? How do you get music onto devices these days? What was wrong with the drag and drop system? I don’t understand what Spotify, Deezer or Soundcloud are, I just know I don’t want to pay a subscription for new music. I want to listen to the CDs I own from the olden days (2010). Luckily I have an old laptop so I can rip a CD, put it onto a flash drive, transfer that to my new laptop then drop it on my phone. I THOUGHT TECHNOLOGY WAS MEANT TO MAKE LIFE EASIER!? Invisibility Now this one is both a blessing and curse. Most women of a certain age will agree that we become invisible once we become post 40. Literally no one is paying attention to us, it’s like we cease to exist. We could be saving puppies and old ladies left, right and centre and no one would bat an eyelid. This may sound a little woe but bear with. The plus side of the post 40 invisibility is that we can go to a bar knowing that no one is going to letch over us. I’m not suggesting for a minute I was all that in my younger days but virtually all younger women receive attention from those looking for a mate. Much of the time it is awkward, uncomfortable and unwanted. These days, if someone started chatting to me in a bar there would be no chance of confusion or miscommunication. I would assume he was missing his mum or on a bet. This nicely leads me into… Expectations People see a post 40 woman and assume she has made it to the point they want to be at. They assume that this is you on your chosen path, there will be no upheavals – no great career change. There is also no previous you who existed before this time now. You are just there being a 40 year old woman. The expectations are pretty low. When you’re in your twenties people have so many expectations. Will you go to university? What career path will you take? You can’t bum around forever! What do you want to do with your LIFE? Do you think you’ll get married soon? Will you have babies now or later? So much pressure is put upon you to make a decision, ideally one that determines your life path for the next 50 years. Once you ‘re post forty, people assume you’ve made all those decisions and are midway to your destination. Truth is, if the destination is death then yes, I probably am midway there, but in all honesty? I’m still just winging it. Self-confidence I throw this in there as a woman of a certain age who still lacks self-confidence BUT I have it in abundance compared to in my younger days. When you’re younger there is so much pressure put upon you about how you should look, what you should wear and what size you should be. When I was in my late twenties I was a size 12/14. I thought I was SO fat… but what I would give to be that size again now! Nowadays the only person putting pressure on me to look or be a certain way is me. With age and maturity comes a realisation that you don’t have to please everyone else. You don’t have to conform to the ideals others impose upon you and you can be happy being who you want to be. Though I would happily hand back a few creases that are appearing I wouldn’t hand back the things I’ve learnt over the last twenty years and I certainly wouldn’t want to be young today. Why not head over to The Incidental Parent to check out her thoughts on being young again. In the meantime, if you like it stick a pin in it!

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Making Memories?

Anna — Mon, 25 Feb 2019 12:32:48 +0000

As a human, I particularly enjoy the past time of ‘dwelling on things’. I’ve written before about my worries, about how I fear my children will grow up as dysfunctional members of society or some such thing. My most recent pointless worry is the memories my children will have. Don’t get me wrong, we’re always hashtag making memories, it’s the age of social media – what parent worth their salt isn’t at least pretending to?! I know my children will remember wonderful holidays and day trips taken (they bloody better do) but it’s the ‘smaller’ memories I fear they won’t have. The things that I, and others my age, fondly look back on that have been ‘improved’ by time and technology and now remain locked in the era we call ‘Retro’. These are the memories that pretty much define our childhood but our kids will never understand. Cassette Tapes The humble cassette brings with it a whole HOST of fond memories. Recording the top 40 every Sunday evening with pause button skills that would create an almost seamless playlist if only it wasn’t for the infuriating DJ who INSISTED on talking to the lyrics on your favourite song – I’m looking at you Mark Goodier! Having no blank tapes so filling the little holes in an old cassette album that you no longer enjoy in order to record over it. Delicately removing the mangled tape from the mechanisms within the cassette player and then winding it back in with a pencil – our generation must have produced a LOT of steady handed surgeons. Using that very same pencil to rewind a cassette so you didn’t wear the batteries out on your Walkman – we’ve all been there. Our kids will just remember being able to choose whatever they want to hear. They won’t have to endure that song they hate to ‘save batteries’ or play the fast forward/rewind game to try and get to the song they want. They can ‘skip track’ to their hearts content without wearing out batteries or snapping tape Birthday Parties They were EPIC. There would be dancing in a circle to classics like ‘The Music Man’, ‘Superman’ and ‘The Chicken Song’ – All kinds of wrong. There would be musical bumps and pass the parcel but there was only ever one winner. None of this ‘sweet in every layer, make sure everyone gets a turn’ rubbish. If you didn’t win you just sucked it up, no tears. The party buffet would comprise of sandwiches cut into triangles, cheese and pineapple on sticks, sausages on sticks, party rings, pink wafers and coconut mallows. Today, the idea of entertaining at home is virtually unheard of. We pile off to the same soft play 29 times a year. The kids run wild for an hour then enjoy a buffet of anaemic looking pizza and sausage rolls. There is no food on a stick. The games begin and everyone gets a prize just for turning up. All the parties are the same and won’t be memorable. Television We had four channels and most of those finished at midnight. Kids TV was resigned to Saturday morning before the sport and weekday evenings between 3.30 and 5. If you were lucky enough to have a portable TV in your room there was the battle of the signal. You’d spend good 15 minutes twiddling aerial on the top and little dials on the side to finely tune in the channel you wanted to watch – the minute you step away the picture would go fuzzy so you would watch at a jaunty angle. If you were lucky enough to get the channel spot on, you could be sure that the next programme you want to watch would be on a different channel and you’ll have to go through the rigmarole all over again. The age of analogue also meant there was no fast forwarding the adverts or pausing the show, you watched while it was on. The adverts were the three minutes within which you were to do everything you needed to do. In most households the adverts ran with military precision. Everyone would have a role and an assigned time. You go to the loo, I’ll fill the kettle and put it on then I’ll go to the loo while you finish the brew – You grab the biscuits. Everyone is back in time for part two! Kids today don’t know of the pain of having to actually sit through a crap TV show like M.A.S.K whilst waiting for Trap Door or Duckula to start. They can watch whatever they want, whenever they want. Where’s the fun and anticipation in that? They won’t even have Knightmare to look back on. Teletext Teletext was amazing, like the internet but available to anyone with a remote control. You had a world of information at your fingertips (providing you only required updates every 24 hours and weren’t in a hurry), simply type in the three numbers and watch as weather, news, holidays and even dating ads appeared before your eyes. You’d have to read fast though as if you missed something you might have to sit through 27 pages before you saw it again. As if holidays and potential love interests wasn’t quite enough, Teletext gave us the joy that was Bamboozle. THIS is what those random coloured buttons on your remote were made for. Bamber was your question master, posing 12 multiple choice questions which would update daily. Hours minutes of fun for everyone, it was revolutionary! Our children have all this information without even less than the touch of a button now. They can just ask Alexa or yell ‘OK Google’ within the vicinity of a smartphone. Information is updated in real time and there’s no sitting through pages of rubbish waiting for the bit they want to read. In fact, if they’re forced to wait more than twelve seconds for something to happen they get tetchy. Children today will never understand the hardship of having to conduct a phone call whilst attached to the wall with your dad tapping his watch or having to wait two weeks to see your how a photo turned out! I appreciate that things change over time, and some things do need improving. I’m just concerned that with all this streamlining of life, we’ve forgotten to leave those little things that they can reminisce fondly about. Saying that, I’d be pretty pissed off if I had to go back to dial up internet.

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