Monday 29 October 2012

MIDuffers5 - Mummy Intelligence

Recently I have just caught the "Spooks" bug.  Ok, I know that the BBC programme started way back when  but I was clearly very busy between 2002 and 2011! However, 2012 is the year for my initiation and I am hooked! Seriously, every loiterer on the streets of Leigh on Sea  is now a potential spy; people talking into headsets are clearly on a mission and any bulge in clothing is a potential weapon - no pun intended but hey I am from Essex!
It gets worse. I now believe I have missed my vocation. I have delusions of spy grandeur! I have thought long and hard about why and how our Intelligence Agencies could have possibly missed me in their graduate recruitment programme. I believe it due to a number of issues.
 Firstly, I am very forgetful so this would have hindered the mission as I would not  have been able to  recall where I was supposed to be or who I was supposed to be meeting, but I have reasoned this could have been an asset, as I generally cannot remember what I am doing from day to day so under torture I would not have released any details of worth or sense. However, torture was a tricky issue. My pain threshold is zero. Sleep deprivation would have been a breeze - I have had years of that as a mother-  but any other pain and I am generally balling. Running and climbing also proved a problem for me. In "Spooks" the females seem to run, jump, climb and fight in short skirts and stilettos  Again, I rationalised, that being an Essex girl and having been attired just so in my youth  and attended many a club where verbal and physical fights had broken out, that perhaps this would not be such a huge problem after all. Sleeping with the enemy also became a concern. My face is generally an open book and I have never been one for numerous liaisons so that was definitely off the menu.- lie back and think of England - no thank you, unless they looked like Johnny Depp when I could just manage it, other than that I may have had to gag a little before copulation. Weaponry could have also been a sticking point. Generally, I am DIY useless and an attempt with a drill has resulted in carnage. Yet again, I turned this into a positive. During a shoot out I could, unwittingly, have annihilated any opposition as I struggled to control my gun; thus saving the team. However, risk to civilians was high on this front so I decided that I needed a desk job.
Out of curiosity and knowing they had watched the series, I chose to ask my elder sons which "Spook" they most thought I was like. Clearly Roz and Jo were high on my wishlist. My eldest announced Ruth with conviction.  The twins remained silent.
"Why? Is it because you think, like her, I am so intelligent and can see through to a problem double quick?" I admit I sounded rather desperate and excitable.
"No,"he replied.
"Is it because she is likeable, vulnerable yet tough and loyal?" I asked.
"No," he replied.
"Why then?" I enquired.
"Do you really want me to answer? Do you really?" he was playing with me now.
"Yes," I sounded pathetic.
"Ok - but if you sulk, it's your fault," he said with authority. I was nervous now. "It is because she has the same stupid lip quiver that you have when you are upset. It is because she cries so readily and has no ability to protect herself in a tough situation. It is because she has a sad taste in clothes.It is because she loves everyone and needs to harden up. But more importantly, like you, if she had had a son who had left his Facebook on, she would have scanned through like you do to mine. If she had had a son, she would have read his texts like you do! If she had had a son, she would have read his history on the computer like you do! "
I grinned, "That's Mummy Intelligence for you!"
"No that's damn right snooping," he growled.
So I am  a spy and I didn't even realise it. I am a Mummy Spook! The fact that the enemy have realised, is besides the point, I will just have to try new tactics! Claerly I am not a MILF but I am proud to say I am a MUMOOK - a mum spook! I wonder how many of you out there are snooping, spying and spooking on your kids cyber land activities? Is it wrong? Well this MUMOOK says, I don't think so!


Saturday 27 October 2012

Essex v Surrey

 My man - my gentle man lives in his rural patch of bankers and corporate finance. A delightful enclave of Surrey. A stunning landscape set in the Surrey hills. However, this landscape has been infected with those that sneer at the less fortunate: us mortals who do not own a hedge fund. A garden of Eden - beautiful but deadly. Harsh.\Yet it is a true statement - four wheel drives, loafers and loud braying befit the newly arrived "second wives" of the market town that sits among the Three Counties of Surrey, Sussex and Hampshire. Here one's face does not fit unless there is a huge wage packet attached to it.  Here gossip is rife about which school is the best; whose husband has strayed and who has gained the biggest pile. If your offspring,  probably a beautiful accessory, did not gain the school that was "the IT school" then a multitude of labels are available for a price of an Ed Psych report. The born and bred have faded and barely have a voice. They can still  be heard, just, amongst the iphone and blackberry loud chitter chatter of the wealthy elite. If you take time to dig deep.there are truly wonderful folk to be found with generations in the graveyard. But they are hidden as the "succeeders""who  have taken root and grasped this beautiful market town with a corporate, monied grip.
Essex, my home county, is just as bad.  However, in Surrey, these new folk have the accents of pedigree but I am sorry to say less grounding. Not that I am saying Essex is any better - rough and ready and, where I live, plastic and orange. How do they differ? Essex is money, money, money. Surrey is money, money, money. Hedge funds will out in both counties. However, there just seems to be a more real feel to Essex.
On the Estuary run from Fenchurch Street to Shoeburyness , you can find the most successful entrepreneurs in the country of fiance, art and literature, possibly due to ill gotten gains, but those apart, success is embraced not criticized nor bitched about. I can still walk into any of my locals and mix with all different walks of life and noone cares. In Essex, stereotypically we have bought into that image of the blonde and  plastic doll adorned with bling.  That living, breathing, walking, talking doll can be from any walk of life in Essex - we still love her or him./And yet, we don't care if you are orange, punk, emo, plastic, wealthy etc, if you can sit, chat and argue, in my home town of Leigh, we will listen. That is the truth. We are so happy if any one will debate or listen - we are the end of the line- the arsehole of England!
Yet in Surrey, there is a complete divide of those that have and those that do not. If you ooze wealth then you attract wealth. Then is no room for the extraordinary  There is a dress code.  Woe betide those who do not follow it! Success is only praised if that person can open doors or is so very wealthy that their door may only be opened if chosen.  One can only befriend them if they are climbing that corporate ladder. The real Surrey folk have retreated and are hard to find, like pearls you have to dive deep. Strangely in my TOWIE land of Essex - the flatland of gain and Sylvia Young, I still witness that slap on the back to sa:y: "well done my son" . Is that because non of us have strayed from our roots? Well I did. Or is it because in Essex we welcome success. I think that I am probably  prejudiced being an Essex girl who can trace her roots back for at least 5 generations.But, I admit, we do love bling and celebrity; we do celebrate wealth and gain but since we live at the end of the mouth of the Thames, we realise that  home is where the heart is and we need to stick together as noone else cares. We have been persecuted  (Matthew Hopkins), ridiculed (white handbags and stilettos  and left to flounder (Thames Barrier). Yes, we have a tier system. Yes it is wrong. Yet, anyone can join it through hard work or marrying well - like Surrey  What is the difference? We don't ditch our friends because they do not fit, we take them along for the ride - be it the end of the line,Shoebury or the end of the line,The City of London. We don't care if their face fits or not; we care about them.

Friday 26 October 2012

Medals, Mess and Mayhem

The break from school has happened and non too soon.  My testosterone driven household is lethargic and grumpy. Exams are looming which means work - a bitter pill to swallow for the older three.
The twins have refrained from their loud outbursts of tourettes and have resorted to low mumbled mutterings of obscenities due to exhaustion. Why? 
Well, one has discovered the Duke of Edinburgh Awards so now has to converse with the elderly and the youth so swearing is off the menu, although, according to him, one of the elderly, he has recently met, has a better knowledge of profanities than he- should I be worried? Can you gain a medal in cursing? If so he would have hit gold already without effort!
 The other has joined the cadets and has learnt to march, build camps and polish boots! I offered him all the shoes in the house to clean; suggested he marched the washing upstairs and enquired whether he would like to make the beds. Strangely, he declined as apparently this was against "orders". Not against my orders I insisted and drilled him in the "mummy mafia" way! My "drill" has enabled him to understand  how I wish our mess house to look.  He is an unwilling student surprisingly. However, Phillip and army may be a distraction but as I pointed out exams are a reality. Gurning is alive and well in my house tonight! 
The eldest has surprised me. Always one to follow his own trail, this morning, without complaint nor want, he called from his teenage pit: "Bye Mum have a great day at work!" Initially I was charmed and warmed by a glow of maternal love. However, two blocks down on the Leigh Road, once the wind had lashed me into sense, I thought what has he done or what is he planning to do? Ok, cynical I agree but actually, I think bloody realistic. I almost turned round and pelted back to find out what the blighter was doing. I soldiered (ha) on and this evening was greeted with a list of complaints from said teenager to why exams are unfair, revision sucks and why can't he just "chill". I think not my friend. Clearly whatever he had planned had failed and I was the enemy once more. A position I felt far more comfortable in.
As for the youngest, my sweet, gentle boy, well, he was in a cross country race today - chosen by default- as one of the fastest runners was off sick. He was so proud to have been chosen and I made sure I was there to witness his moment of glory. All began well. The relay began. He was second. He was tagged and he shot off with the wind beneath his feet. I lost track of him as he entered the wood. The hare, a Year 10, appeared first swiftly followed by a young competitor. My son followed soon afterwards and we cheered him on. He was running for dear life and the crowd lifted him. Quick on his tail came another competitor running for victory trying to overtake. My gentle son, lifted by the cheers from his school, decided, in a moment of madness, to offer a sharp backhanded swipe to take out the opposition. Terrible and misguided, I agree. However, my gentle giant clearly thought he was a competitor in 'The Hungergames' as once the runner had regained equilibrium and tried to overtake once more, my boy continued to swerve  shift and swipe to ensure a win. I am not convinced the PE department, headmaster and governors were part of "The Capitol". And as a parent I watched in horror.