The Curse of The Wheelie Suitcase

Don’t get me started, but seeing as you’ve just given me carte blanche, Daily Post, I’ll dive right  in…

That drivelling, droning, whining vibration that emanates from the dragging of numerous wheelie suitcases, along pavements, in train stations, airports and streets up and down the country, across the continent and most probably throughout the planet.

As we drift thoughtlessly towards becoming a lazier species any minor tool that makes life simpler is embraced with abandon by the populace: take-away curry, american nail bars, instant soup and…wheelie suitcases.

Why can you not just pick up your goods and, carry, them?

As a staunch rucksack kinda chick/women/mother/old bat I refuse, point blank refuse, to take up any more space with my travelling bag and enjoy the pain and indignity of carrying my own possessions on my back, like a snail, having my hands free to slurp coffee and wave at handsome taxi drivers.

Call me a rucksack snob, in fact, call me anything you like – but this is my own, well groomed and adored personal pet snobbery.

If you there is anyone else out there in the world who feels the same – lets connect and create the Working Guild of RuckSack Rousers or Rucksacks on the Rise? Hmm or maybe, instead, Trail of the Snail? I’m not sure what do you think?

 

 

 

 

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And the Reason Is?

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“I’m fat mummy”.

Does that sound familiar? An eight year old recently said this to her mum – she thinks she is fat because her older brothers tease her. This little girl is a normal, healthy child but is worried about her young, innocent and perfectly beautiful pre-pubescent body.

We learn so much from elder siblings, and if we don’t have them, invariably someone else will. Influences both negative and positive spill out into the classroom, the playground and beyond and there is nothing we can do about it.

So how should we support a child and ensure they have a healthy, well adjusted body image?

At what point, if ever, do we decide that there is more beauty and aesthetic pleasure to be gained from our imperfections? To be perfect is impossible. Yet for many the acquisition of perfect is the quintessential conclusion we must all, surely, wish to achieve. Through our jobs, our homes, our bodies and our clothes.

How then can we teach children, and ourselves, that beauty comes from within and shines out from inside like a beckoning beacon.

For younger girls (say from 3-11yrs) this book; Beautiful Girl is simply perfect, written by Dr.Christiane Northrup, the essential element of the story is to introduce girls to their bodies, for them to understand they are beautiful just the way they are and for them to begin to discover the incredible gifts and magic that their bodies contain.

It might seem stupid and ridiculous to you but positive visualisation, a kind of easy meditation, is something you can do with children – it is so gorgeously simple and it is also a really wonderful thing to do together. Your are literally just telling them a story. Practice it in the classroom, at bedtime, sitting quietly under a tree or snuggled up on the sofa. It is a moment when a child or children can close their eyes and indulge in a short story told by you.

These visualisation techniques right here will give you the tools to begin to help your child regulate difficult emotions, fears or worries. These brilliant ideas from the Kids Relaxation team can help teachers and those working with large or small groups of children – especially using this: the Mind Pirates visualisation and game.

Give a child the tools to believe in themselves and give them a way to help them believe in themselves and help yourself and learn along the way.

Do you have a reason to believe in yourself?

Silverlinings

Not everybody has the luxury of experimenting with death.

But watching someone you love walk the dark path of cancer, and realising at each step that its not going to get better, allows you great perspective.

As death becomes the obvious conclusion you start to relinquish the shackles of life, the dull minutiae that normally oppresses much of your day.

Light, suddenly shines from the small things you took for granted; a drink with an old friend, dancing to live music, watching your children run naked and laughing in their glee, clean sheets on your bed…Image

We are surrounded by so much that is so wonderfully simple and pure.

And sometimes it takes a brush with death to allow you to see your incredible life for what it truly is.

For clarity to seep through the crap.

For you to smile with your luck for all that you have.

It is not always so clear, so obvious or so simple, the silver-lining to so many black moments – but it is always there – if you hunt around for it. 

 

In a manner of speaking…

Crumpscoddle.

A herd of hairy humplecrimps, buckets of snozzcumbers, served before strawbunkles and cream and followed by a large bottle of frobscottle.

Sloshfunking wraprascals and a nest of squizzly scotch-hoppers, a few puddlenuts and a gobblefunking fizzwinkle, to name just a few.

It’s not only hopscotchy, it’s whoopsey-splunkers – and I don’t dally with my words – I’m not switchfidding you, talking rommytot or flushbunking and, neither am I cockles.

Call me a swinebuggler or a pigswiller but I’ll never be your bloodbottler.

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If you want to give you binlids a proper education in storytelling, you better adam and eve it, I swear from the bottom of my jam tart, there is only one heap of coke who puts the best dicky birds together and that is my absolute all time hero Mr Roald Dahl.

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Not only did he write The BFG in the most scumdiddlyumptious, ringbeller wonderveg fashion, he created Mugglewump, The RolyPoly Bird, Mr & Mrs Twit, Charlie Bucket, Augustus Gloop, Grandmamma and many, many more.

This man is a wordsmith like no other and he is my turtle dove.

Pea. S. Quentin Blake is damn Robin Hood too.