Most ridiculous urination award

I am creating this ‘honour’, and also claiming it.

If there are any parents that can better, or in fact, worsen any of the situations I am about to detail, I will gladly pass on this decoration, and take huge comfort in the fact that I am not the only person raising a child who likes to make toilets out of all sorts of things.

It falls at my door, or teaching really, my toilet stop planning has often been a smidge laxed, not really instilling a protocol in the boy of using the toilet when it is convenient rather than at the very moment it becomes absolutely necessary.

This has led to a few ‘choice’ moments. Not exclusively for this reason, sometimes, it has just been because there were not the facilities available for a good time. But today’s emergency relief, really was something else.

I give you my most ludicrous five;

5 – Around the village’s iconic Christmas tree.

Late for school, or thinking we were late, my son did not go and use the water closet before leaving the house. We had got to the end of the road when he announced it was now or new trousers. Just at the point where the village’s giant fir tree is planted. As it masked my son from the road, I sent him to ‘do his business near it’. But obviously the sight of me alone prompted the passing parents, and best kept village dignitaries to ask where Max was. They often did not get to the end of their question, before the answer was plain to see.

4 – On the underground.

This was a semi-planned event. I knew that we were going to be on the tube for a while. Getting across, or under London can be quite a long process, especially when you are not 100% sure where you are going, what line you should be on or if you are going to get shouted at. For that reason I included an empty water bottle in my bag, a holdall ironically scrawled with the words ‘No Fear’ because it was the cheapest rucksack available I am that cool. So when my son declared he desperately needed to go, I was ready. Well, I had to rid myself of any shame as I knelt and held a plastic container to my son’s penis on a packed London Tube, but that was not a big issue.

3 – On Safari.

This was a similar situation to the underground incident. At West Midlands Safari Park, one of our favourite visits, you take your car around their safari under strict instructions to stay within the vehicle. Since it can also take up to two hours on busy summer days, when drinking is also advised to keep the kids hydrated, there spells a recipe for disaster. Again the plastic bottle came to my aid, this time having to empty its original contents out of the window, before I then emptied a much warmer, yet fresher liquid out if not long afterwards.

2 – Not so grate.

One I thought we had got away with. When my son was still at nursery, he finished one lunchtime and we were instantly in a rush to be somewhere else, which was going to require a decent car journey. But as I am an idiot, I forgot to ask Max to go and use the nursery’s toilet before we left for our journey. Instead I reminded him at the car, and he then relieved himself in to a storm drain. Just at the point that one of the school’s parent governors strolled passed, coolly saying; “I knew there was a reason I did not pull further forward.” They had been in the car parked right by the drain to see the whole performance.

1 – In Willy Wonka’s Factory.

We spent today at Alton Towers, a great, yet exhaustive day out. The boy has insisted on only a few things from the day, but going on the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was top of the insisting. It was obviously popular with a lot of the children there today, and as such the queue was substantial. Max had not long gone to the toilet so I thought we would be safe, and as the queue was growing, we joined it, with fingers, and legs crossed. We must have been in the queue for over 30 minutes, but I could see my son getting a little twitchy, which I put down to boredom. There were signs up everywhere to say we could not rejoin the queue if we left it, and when we entered the snaking part inside, there really was no way back. At this point, and as a video instruction of a cartooned Willy Wonka is annoying played on a loop, the boy declared a bladder fit to burst. Luckily, and equally unluckily this part of the queuing system is very dark. So I prepared the receptacle, and advised my son it was safe to go - just as the queue started moving again. Thus, I had my son, walking backwards, peeing in to a Fruit Shoot bottle, in the dark. My hand was getting warmer, and it was only a guess if this was because the bottle had become dislodged, or indeed if it was just the bottle getting warmer. Great times. A whole new low.

So, I think we totally deserve this award, but I do hold on to the faintest of hopes that there are others who can share stories even more absurd.

Please don’t disappoint me.

Doing things by halves

No, I do not have a new job as an Easter egg puttogetherrer.

I am typing about the school holidays.

It is half-term week for us, which means my son is off, and we get to plan, and act out a load of joyous activities.

I have just re-read a post I wrote at the end of this week last year, and discovered some fabulous similarities with it.

Our relationship is really on a high at the moment, my son has been incredibly affectionate of late, and his behaviour has prompted a lot of positive tears from me over the last week or so.

I find him great fun most of the time in all honesty, but at the moment, his company is something I really crave and enjoy. So a whole week with him, however tiring it may end up being and however much I may end up regret saying it has come at the right time.

This is something I also noted this time last year.

We have yet to mutilate a pumpkin, but we are actually planning on doing a job on one grown by Mr Hughes later in the week.

The week has kicked off at one of Max’s nursery friends this morning.

Thanks to those who reassured me about being exposed to chickenpox again on Twitter last night. I eventually found some chickenpox information on the NHS website, it offered no concrete reason to rob my son of a play date he was very much looking forward to.

On top of the pumpkin carving, we also have visits planned to Alton Towers, West Midlands Safari Park, the grandparents, a Halloween extravaganza, fireworks and a birthday party.

Some of which we shall do in the company of the wonderful aforementioned Hughes family.

I have some work to fit in around all that, which means for a fun, yet even more tiring than usual, seven day period.

There is some downtime for me before the weekend, as I am going to a Pink concert – I hope I get to tickle her, or her me.

Thus I hope a happy balance has been struck.

But my main hope is that my smile is still as wide by the end of it all.

Toy Story Mania

We were sent a copy of Toy Story Mania, a new game for the Nintendo Wii, for review.

I do not actually own a Wii console, but my sister does, and I thought this game, being more child friendly, would be a handy addition for our visits – rather than my four year-old clambering to play non-age appropriate games every time we go.

Essentially it is a shoot-em-up game, based on the very popular Toy Story characters.

Play is based around a fairground type environment, playing all sorts of games, or stalls, where the physical style of the Wii controls give a feel for you actually being stood at the stall, and bashing things that come out of holes, or shooting them, as necessary.

The only problem I had with the game was actually getting my son to play it. While he is a big fan of the Toy Story films, this game certainly was not grabbing his attention in the same way.

Disney provides a huge library of things to perhaps encourage interaction with this game. There are things to colour in, you can make a Toy Story Mania door hanger and there are the obligatory wallpapers and screensavers.

Perhaps if I had got hold of an official Toy Story gun, that may have encouraged him a bit too.

The game is also playable in 3-D, if you can bear wearing the funny glasses, or indeed get your offspring to wear them.

Overall the game is good fun, like many on Nintendo’s newest console, but it also quickly becomes tiresome for me, hence we do not own this machine ourselves.

There is enough dust on my Playstation 2 as it is.

My mother is totally boiling my beetroot man

No need to call the cops, not like she was twisting my melon.

In fact, she was physically boiling my home grown beetroot as part of their pickling process.

It was my expectation, that when we moved to our self-built house, that the garden would be as important, as the structure we were to occupy.

I put quite a lot of effort into designing our surrounds, carefully considering maintenance and practicality versus beauty and usefulness.

A vegetable patch was considered absolutely essential, and while I have not got it quite right, the original design was such that I can make alterations in the spring at very little extra cost.

The slog of gardening, maintaining one, cutting grass, weeding, hedge trimming and watering, have never been activities that I have enjoyed, more endured. But the thought of successfully growing our own crops was a truly scrumptious one.

Something we can enjoy doing together, and a process that would hopefully help my son understand how certain things grow.

We both have really enjoyed the process this first year, and have been reasonably successful in striking a balance of not stretching ourselves too much, but yielding enough to make it a worthwhile process.

Firstly we grew potatoes in three quarters of our patch, while strawberry plants were planted in the remainder.

As the spuds chosen were early varieties we were able to lift them, and still have time to sow carrot and beetroot seeds in the void from which they came.

Our carrots were more successful in number, but growing beetroot has actually encouraged my boy to eat them, so it is arguable that the beetroot growth was more worthwhile.

I have now dug in some leaves, and in the spring I plan to raise my vegetable bed by another railway sleeper, adding a mixture of top soil, fertiliser and manure before moving my strawberry plants, and their off-shoots, then we will be having another blast with potatoes.

Space, given a bit of shifting, has also been identified for a couple of fruit trees, which I think will be a great addition to our garden, and hopefully our learning.

I was recently contacted by representatives of McCain, who were kind enough to send Max a new gardening set and activity pack.

They are keen to promote their Potato Story initiative, aimed at raising awareness amongst children on how the humble potato finds its way to their dinner table, presumably in the form of McCain’s over chips.

They have kitted out an unbranded doube-decker bus and yes saying unbranded enough is like letting people know of all the secret charity work you do, great PR idea which is the focal part of their roadshow that has visited over 130 UK primary schools, reaching out to over 17,000 pupils.

Reading through their website, it does appear to be a genuine initiative, and one that could aid those that are not getting this information by other means.

Infinite amount of words Wednesday

Ignore the cute.

This,

Is an unmitigated disaster.

The boy has an insatiable thirst for information. When he gets a run on, he is question, question, and question.

A fact not lost on the gifter of his new prized book, themselves subject to his relentless inquisition enquiring mind before.

This is most definitely a payback.

Revenge is a dish best served funny, it seems.

Grief triggers

Last week included, what would have been, my late wife’s 35th birthday.

Since becoming a widower, the anniversaries, that of her death, birthday, our wedding or even us getting together, have not really been a huge issue for me.

I wrote in August about the fourth anniversary of Samantha’s death and included there how I feel about them.

Nothing really changes on the days later, or before, and it is really not like I am thinking about her any more, or any less on any given day.

It is my rational self, I have never been one to get excited about any sort of anniversary, and I suppose that facet of my persona has not really changed.

Rigorous rituals have not really been created, or cemented, to deal with recurring events, each occasion being treated on an ad-hoc basis.

I do tend to get flowers, white lilies if I can - our favourites. Usually keeping some at home, and taking some to Sam’s grave.

Not shying away from the reason as to why we have the flowers in our house, not that it is always the reason we have green stuff in our gaff.

My boy understands why too, I do not like keeping things from him, he deserves the truth, however hard it is.

But last week was the first time it upset him.

I explained in the morning, what was ‘significant’ about the day, and while that was not a grief trigger for me, it certainly was for the boy.

While heartbreaking to witness, I was also immensely proud of my son. Proud because he had moved to such a level, gaining a better understanding of his loss, and able to show his emotion for it.

There was plenty of reassurance and cuddling, and we spoke about his mom, and how it was now. While she has physically gone, she will always be part of him, and gave him the best possible start in the world.

We were having a couple of his friends for tea on the same day, and I had intended to buy some carrot cake, Sam’s favourite, for Max and his chums to celebrate quietly the missed birthday. News of this also softened the grief.

I did think of shielding it from Max’s friends, but quickly put thoughts like that aside, as I do not feel it is something we should shy from. It is not going to change, and it is not like I am against talking about it.

Part of me also wanted to see how the little ones may react to the situation.
They reacted with questions to which they know the answers, like; ‘Where’s Max’s mom?’

It is almost like they still find it difficult to accept, and are perhaps surprised with the way they get straight answers. From me, and mini-me.

Luckily for the boy, they did not like carrot cake, so he had two for his lunch boxes on the following days. I do wonder if their relative significance was talked about at school, Max has not mentioned them since, and I do not like to ask, as I really do not want him to tire of my insistence to talk about such things.

And while situations like this are no breeze, I could not help but think it was the right way to handle it. For us anyway. This time.

My boy’s grief is not going to evaporate through ignorance, nor would I want it to. I think the truth, and the benefits of knowing it, far outweigh, what a life shielded may yield.

Formal lessons should be introduced later

Following hot-on-the-heels of my debut at parents evening, I have had some great discussions with fellow parents of children in reception class, and some in year 1.

There does not seem to be totally commonality in attitude, but the majority feel that the education train runs too fast, and is ultimately to the detriment of a child’s learning, rather than making the most of their current ‘sponge-like’ learning capacity.

It was of no surprise then, that the report published by The Cambridge Primary Review – billed as the most comprehensive enquiry into English primary education for 40 years – was a topic of great discussion and intrigue this morning.

Most us had picked it up from the BBC news report that had focused on the recommendation that we should follow the international example, and not rush children into a formal learning environment.

I have had a quick read of the review document, and found that there were also positives in it. Suggesting that while primary schools are under too much pressure to attain certain standards, they are generally doing a very good job.

Many years ago I remember being so bored on a plane journey, running out of things to read, I ended up reading the education section of a broadsheet newspaper.

I was not a parent, nor close to being one, but I found an article that stuck with me, or my understanding of it, up until now.

It advocated the same principle, citing somewhere like Switzerland as an example. Where they actually slowed children down to the same pace of learning, but yielded much better levels of education by the end of formal schooling.

The article suggested that we concentrate very much on the perceived gifted children here, and all is set to cater for them, but the masses have to just churn out results, and that those results do not equate to quality learning, or a sound education.

The Cambridge Primary Review makes for very interesting reading, and the recommendation that formal lessons should not start until a child is six, is something that resonates with me, the layman.

Interesting the review only suggests evidence for the current method of switching to formal learning methods after a reception year, to damage longer-term learning. It records no evidence of the opposite.

It would also be interesting to know, or read further, how this would actually affect teachers of this age group, and beyond.

Having children closer together in formal knowledge must be easier to teach, and I would suggest those children still hungry to learn more could have their horizons broadened, rather than just ‘being better’ at the subjects they learn with their classmates.

This report may come too late to affect my son’s schooling, yet interestingly if we moved to Wales then his learning would be different, with the suggestions of this review already being followed.

I am still up for the challenge of trying to make school seem as fun and as unpressurised as possible, even if the reality, for now, is different.

My Parents Evening debut

After six weeks of school I was, like all the other parents at my son’s school, invited to a Parents Evening.

Now I am unsure if my memory serves me right, but when I was a pupil, these would be an annual thing which always resulted in my parents relaying the message; ‘You’ve done OK, but you SHOULD be trying harder’.

Being the little know-it-all, I would always point out that ‘should’ is subjective, and in fact they meant ‘your teachers, and us, would prefer it if you made more of an effort with the work put in front of you’.

I was probably the ultimate in annoying child, and still am in many ways.

This time however, I am playing the role of parent, and I am interested in my own mind and how I will guide and cajole my own child through the whole education process.

I still insist my attitude was right at school, and is one inherent in me. Try hard when you either need to, when you are interested or can see the longer-term benefit of what you are doing.

It is little about what you know, more an ability to apply knowledge in a beneficial way.

The emphasis from me at the moment is that I want my son to enjoy his schooling as much as possible. That may ultimately mean I have to give the same lecture encourage my boy to do his work, or indeed extra work, but for now I am not deliberately putting any pressure on him to do work, and actually have encouraged him to question the ‘must do’ attitude.

Yeah, the teachers are going to love me.

Last night was intended as a five minute interview, which in my humble opinion was largely avoidable and unnecessary.

It really is not a great deal of time if you actually have questions or issues to discuss.

(And I obviously forgot to ask the only one I wanted answered; 'What is this black crap I can't wash out of the uniform?')

Our 300 seconds were mostly spent discussing the methods of reception, or foundation stage teaching. Explaining what the targets are for the children.

Which was of some benefit, but need not have been delivered on a one-to-one basis, indeed it could have been explained by letter, email or even at the previous ‘Meet the Teacher’ and ‘Sharing Time’ events this term.

I am sure it is not a great night for the teachers either.

So instead of having to liaise with a fellow parent, and do some child swapping - which at the moment is a ‘great’ source of debate - an email exchange or quick phone conversation would have sufficed.

Probably easier for all parties, and also generates an automatic record, and notes of open communication between parent and teacher.

Would probably tick a lot of boxes on my Early Years Foundation Stage Profile actually.

That is all wishful thinking, so I am left to eagerly await my next parent/teacher consultation.

And the one after that.

And the one after that............

Children are really irritating

They really are, even when done with a certain amount of cute, and charm, they can be incredibly irritating.

I give you a wonderful example.

This is something I wanted to write about a while ago, but I have only just found a piece of scrap paper with ‘idiot son’ written on as a reminder reference to it, in part of my extensive, and professionally recorded, blogging notes.

Sometime over the summer, the boy was due for a day with one set of the grandparents, my folks to be precise.

There was no fixed agenda, the inconsistent weather of the time pretty much dictated any forward planning to be a waste of time, but for sure, fun was to be had.

The sun was shining in the morning, and as I started to sort stuff out for the day my son insisted suggested that he wanted to take his bike with him.

I had no problem with this, just needed to make the necessary loading arrangements, and enquires.

So the call was put into the grandees to check this did not interfere with any plan they may have hatched now armed with a better handle on the weather.

In fact it supplemented their idea of going to a park and farm, my dad started planning how to transfer the bike to his car so the boy could ride it around said park.

My boot needed a quick tidy up to fit the bike in, but before I was allowed to load it, my son decided that a few action figures needed to go into the little box that sits over the rear wheel.

The transfer over at my parents’ house was swift and virtually effortless.

However upon their return to our house for dinner, enquiries to how the day had gone brought about ‘that look’, the one that says not all went to plan.

Apparently although my dad had taken Max’s bike out with them, my son had then decided he did not want to ride it around the park.

Annoying, but not super annoying.

What is Über annoying is when they got back to my parents’ house, and the bike was decanted for riding, again my son refused to take to the pedals.

I am led to believe my dad politely, yet firmly asked; “Why did you want to bring it then?”

To which Max replied; “I needed somewhere to put the action figures I wanted to bring.”

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Yet, cute and funny too.

It also prompted me to teach the boy a new word, or combination of words.

“You have plenty of suitable receptacles son, but your bike isn’t one of them.”

I woke up healthy

Well, the NHS BMI Calculator said I did.

One of my instant targets when the boy started school, was to get my fitness and weight sorted out.

A different type of rebuilding process to the others I have instigated since being widowed.

I did not really set any initial targets, other than thinking that September to Christmas seemed like a good, and healthy period of time to get the aforementioned to a decent level.

In the past my dieting has only ever been successful if I have removed my intake of things I would consider unhealthy completely. Snacky stuff has always been my downfall, especially sweets.

We would diet as a pair previously, as that always seemed easier, and supportive, when we were married. Trying Weight Watchers, Marks & Spencer diet stuff, the red and green day one, and even Atkins.

None of them ever seemed to work for me, but to be honest, I was never that bothered about losing weight, nor did I need to, as more exercise was present in my day-to-day.

So this time, all sugary, fatty and salty snacks have gone, replaced exclusively by fruit, if I cannot wait for the next meal time.

It has also taken me 32 years to actually listen to the ‘breakfast is the most important meal of the day’ gambit.

I have been eating with my son in the mornings, rather than just sorting him out, to then feel hungry later in the morning, and snacking on rubbish.

Then I have also cracked an exercise formula. Consistently been doing 30 miles on my bike, and 2 miles in the swimming pool each week, with the exception of one when Max was poorly – those distances were halved that week.

I feel a lot better, and have more energy, which in turn means I have been more productive, and have found energy for things post child bedtime, rather than curling up and watching something naff on television.

My weight loss has been nothing short of immense. I have lost a ridiculous amount, 24lbs in five weeks, a little over 11% of my original body weight.

At the same time I am pleased, concerned and mildly embarrassed about such numbers.

It is great to actually have a BMI that does not label me a fatty, but I am unsure that losing that amount in that short space of time, I can really consider myself healthy.

Plus, when Dan laid down the gauntlet of who could lose a stone first, I did not envisage losing 7lbs in the first week of the challenge. While satisfying to be at the top of the loser board, that really is not what it is about, and 7lbs is barely believable, however true it is.

My dilemma is now finding a healthy balance, that means my weight loss is somewhat halted, but my fitness continues to improve. I guess this will entail eating more, but the danger is that puts pressure on me to continue to exercise at a level that will use the fat, rather than store it.

And still, I am only five weeks in, to what is a major change in lifestyle, so it may start to even itself out, as I now enter the deemed healthy bracket.



In other news; are you like me? After you have been on holiday, what is the one thing you need? Another holiday perhaps? I have written about these feelings over on the Play and Stay blog and I would love for you to go visit, and add your two penneths.

Family portraits and an image update

No need to call Gok Wan, or whatever he is called, I am not about to overhaul my rather ailed wardrobe, but more a digital renovation.

I was recently asked for a photograph of myself and Max, as I am quite regularly, yet this time I actually realised I was, by default, sending a picture that is nearly four years old.

You know?

This one;



I use this in all my internet guises, Twitter, my blog profile, Facebook, British Mummy Bloggers and as the image associated with the magical words of wisdom I tend to leave all over the interweb.

It is time for a change.

Luckily I have a friend, who is looking to launch a photo studio with a twist.

Specialising in family portraits, but instead of operating from a studio which may make customers feel a smidge stuffy, he plans to offer a mobile service, thus bringing the camera to you.

He is a fantastic photographer, and a really nice chap, a manner that I would imagine most would welcome in to their homes.

Personally I have toyed with the idea of some studio-esq shots with the boy, but have always shied away from actually going through with it, fearing enormous cost, and the drama of getting to a studio without soiling any part of ourselves or clothing.

Plus there is the potential drama of damaging studio equipment, or child becoming increasingly frustrated and bored with the whole process and set-up.

So, his idea seems like a very good one to me, but I am only one person, and would love to read of your experiences, or indeed, if you would consider using such a service.

I will be passing on your feedback, but not any details, he will only be offering a local service, but I thought it would be good to gain some, any, market research for him.

Anyway, these are a few of the shots he took of us, and I will probably add a few more of them to my Flickr account at some point.

But do not be alarmed if you see one of these images as a replacement for my old avatar, we are just growing up.

Yeti Spotting with Skoda

We were invited by Skoda to go and test drive one of their new cars, a Yeti no less, with the added benefit of taking this brand new car around Woburn Safari Park as way of examination.

The date fitted a free day, and I also managed to borrow my best mate’s wife and kids to make a proper car full, giving the car a better going over, and also enjoying the company of friends for the duration.

The day was expertly organised. Of all the PR related stuff I have actually said yes to, this was the most professionally handled, even better than the Butlins’ Ocean Hotel launch by my judgement.

On arrival, and without fuss we were directed to where the Yetis, and the Yeti were stationed, were warmly greeted and quickly offered a choice of diesel or petrol car.

As I drive a diesel, I thought it would be better to give an equivalent engine the run-around.

Car seats and the kids were swiftly transferred, which was much appreciated on a very blustery day, and we were soon on our way – after the mandatory embarrassing stall in front of everyone of course.

Predictably the model at our disposal was the top-of-the-range version – 2.0 TDI CR Elegance - with a few optional extras. The car had a really nice feel to it. The advantage of a raised driving position, but without the feel of driving a van or MPV.

It actually felt very similar to a Golf GTI I used to have, rather than the feelings I had driving my previous RAV4 or Mitsubishi L200 Warrior. Not a surprise I suppose with the whole Volkswagen/Skoda tie-in.

My friend was also impressed, more so that she thought she would be, apparently. Their family cars number a new Audi (also within the same stable) and Renault Megané, so they are folks that value their wheels.

We had a great day at Woburn; the Safari Park is excellent, very open with what looks like great freedom for the animals.

They were also spoiling their pack of lions with a deer, they had allegedly discovered dead on the roads around Woburn. A bypass was even offered for those unwilling to watch lions tear in to the once meaty carcass of a deer, which of course, we did not take.

It was difficult to give the car a real going over, being limited to driving slowly around the park, but it does seem like a great vehicle, and I will be taking one for a week long test drive at some point to further test that theory.

I hope to get one equipped with ‘Park Assist’. A system devised to help women the discerning driver with parallel parking, in that, it virtually does it for you. All you control is the speed.

This video demonstrates it better



I was amazed to see this is ‘only’ a £450 option, and also astounded to learn that this is in comparison to the £1,400 charged for Satellite Navigation. I cannot get my head around why Sat Nav seems to be such an expensive option, especially when you can pick up a very high spec mobile version for a couple of hundred pounds.

The car has been devised to fit the emerging Crossover market, not really fitting in any of the current motor sectors. Skoda hope to gain customers from several different markets; MPVs, SUVs and Hatchbacks. As well as compete with other new Crossovers, with core competition considered to be the Nissan Qashai.

It is a 4x4 that has an off road setting, for genuine users of this much maligned double axel power. Personally I would not need it, but, like previously, if I was towing from beaches it would be a great option, giving it an advantage against a lot of the competition.

A combined mpg of 46.3 seems keen, and would be even keener on the non 4x4 model, a factor that played a major part in my own last car purchase.

The day was further enjoyed by meeting Tim, of Bringing Up Charlie, in person for the first time. I hope to do so again soon.

I look forward to giving a Yeti a closer inspection in due course, and of course I will wax lyrical on my experience.

In the meantime you can find some photographs from our day on Facebook, where you can also join the Yeti Spotting group, and while you are there, why not add yourself to the Single Parent Dad page?

Fat Club

The first rule of Fat Club is you must blog about Fat Club.

Me and the boyfriend have both decided there is a little too much of us to love, plus it would be quite nice to give our hearts a little rest from the daily drudgery of pumping vast amounts of steadily congealing liquid through self-narrowed arteries.

Something like that anyway.

But as we also have stupid in common, we thought it would be a great idea, and incentive to come up with some sort of contest.

We both have different amounts we wish to lose, so Dan, the genius, came up with the idea of the first to lose a stone (14lbs).

He also came up with the less brilliant idea of the winner, taking over the losers blog for the week, and really could we do anymore more harm to each other than we already do to ourselves?

So, we are looking for suggestions of what the penance, or prize should be for the first to lose the weight.

And we are also prepared to throw this open to others who may like to get in on the action, or non-action in this case.

Mr Hughes has unveiled his cunning weight loss plan today, it is quite novel, walking himself to death is a sure fire way to rid yourself of those unwanted pounds.

However if you want master plan, look no further, well, a little further, you have to read it like.

My plan, when friends visit us for a curry tomorrow night, is to replace the naan bread I usually have with boiled rice, a massive saving, plus I also am going to ask for questionable prawns, lower in fat, and likely to make me ill. A sure fire weight loss programme if ever there was one.

WeightWatchers Points? Shove that (though, it is a system I could incorporate in to a spreadsheet).

It is on.