They did in fact think that going to the car wash - one of those ones where the car is on a sort of rack which moves it forward - was far more exciting than cleaning it themselves, comparing going through the car wash to going through a waterfall or a storm. And I have to admit that washing the car isn't really my idea of a useful way of wasting my time: it's not as if it costs that much to get done, and I did at least hoover it out myself and clean the inside not too long ago. I was in fact too embarrassed to take it to be valeted, the inside was so disgusting, what with the remains of children's breakfasts taken en route to dropping Husband off at work before taking them to school, pieces of Lego, sundry small items such as hairclips (pink, of course), pencils (pink or purple, generally), and bits of wrappers which Daughter (generally) hasn't managed to open in one piece.
Does anyone who has children have a clean car? I felt somewhat relieved the other week when the children complained that not only the car but the house of some friends of theirs smelt, and that the car was far dirtier than ours. Does everybody with children find themselves fighting an ever-losing battle against dirt of various varieties, small toys and bits of toys lying around in places they have no right to be, a never-ending pile of washing (or ironing if by any chance the washing basket is temporarily almost empty), and not enough time to do it? Or rather, not enough time to do it as well as doing some of the more sanity-enhancing things such as work or trying to work (e.g. writing), gardening (hmm... well... it's sanity-enhancing in that one is out in the fresh air and doing something relatively physical) and keeping fit? Optimistically I had asked if I could swim myself while the children were in their lesson today, as I didn't have the Baby with me: the answer was that I couldn't really in case one of them needed the toilet during their lesson, which was fair enough. How old do they have to be before I can just dump them at their lesson and go off? I quite often wait in the reception area anyway as the Baby gets too hot in the viewing area, but I suppose really I should stay within calling range.
Nobody has phoned me about singing lessons but I'm hoping it's just because it's the summer holidays. Radio Cumbria hasn't phoned me in a positive or a negative way about my demo programme about opera, and I'm unsure whether to chase them up or not (what if they say it was rubbish?). And as usual there are several magazines to whom I have submitted pieces and from whom I have heard nothing. A rejection would be better than silence as then I'd know that I could submit them to other periodicals: after all there are stacks of magazines out there so there must be opportunities to get paid for writing articles, it's just a matter of finding out for whom.
We have also not won anything in the numerous competitions I've entered over the past year or so, and we could do with a new cooker as a minimum at the moment and preferably a new TV as well: the other day we suddenly had a powercut and with hindsight I realised it was because the cooker had blown. I guess maybe it's just a fuse though Husband couldn't see how to get to the fuse and thought it might be the fan, as everything is happening except heat. No roasts for us for a while, though we still have the microwave which is a combi oven. The top oven/grill also works after a manner of speaking: I tried to repair the door not long after we moved in and having repaired the back found I'd then broken the front, so it's not insulating properly. The TV ticks on but you have to allow about 10 or 15 minutes for the picture to appear. It's almost like having one of those very old televisions which took some time to warm up. It was quite bizarre being in Scotland and finding that when you pressed the 'on' button, a complete, clear picture was there straight away.
I'm quite sure we are going to have some mammoth stroke of luck soon and that we'll start winning competitions and that some work will come my way. Meanwhile if anyone hears of anyone who wants singing lessons or of any competitions to win kitchens, appliances, home makeovers etc., then point them in my direction. I shall keep trying: and after all you hear of people who almost make a living from entering competitions (I imagine they put rather more time, effort and money into it than I do: I tend only to enter ones which are free to enter, although I did go to Waitrose at Hexham the other week in order to purchase some clothes washing liquid for a competition).
On a complete tangent, I had another thought about children the other day. I wondered if the more children there are in a family, the more confident they are. After all the more siblings they have to compete with the more they have to stand up for themselves. Daughter is extremely extrovert and confident and the Baby is showing signs of being much the same, though I know it's early days. Older Son is somewhat more sensitive and quieter and could do with learning to stand up for himself a bit more. Obviously a lot of it's down to character, but if Older Son had been an only child perhaps learning to stand up for himself would be a lot harder, learnt only via the school playground? Who knows: you can never really say as it's difficult to separate character from environment or nature from nurture anyway.
Meanwhile I have a blog to recommend to you all, which promises to be quite funny:
http://handmadefromtheheart666.blogspot.com/ - one woman's search for her Mr Darcey. And for any woman who moved somewhere relatively rural and remote for her husband's career, http://www.wifeinthenorth.blogspot.com/ is to be recommended: especially the book. And as I can't think how else to finish, at least not in a punchy conclusive style, I shall leave you with a photograph from my 8-mile run round Loch Muick (yes, the one which resulted in such stiff legs that I slid down the stairs while telling Daughter to put her pants on). This is near the beginning of the run when the top of the Loch, the halfway point, is still ahead of you.
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