Seven Days In Sunny June

Well, I'm not really sure where the last week's gone. Time certainly flies when the children are on holiday from school!

Monday and Tuesday were spent visiting my parents in Barnsley and surprisingly, as I mentioned in my last post, I had a pretty good time. Cam, Daisy and I escaped on Monday afternoon for a drive over the moors. A mere fifteen minutes from my parent's house and you're on the edge of the Peak District with some spectacular views. The hills are one aspect of Yorkshire I really do miss. Although Leicestershire has some attractive countryside, it can't compete with the stark beauty of the moors. Having no map and only the vaguest idea of where we were going, we tried to find the windmills of Royd Moor. After failing to find the road up to the top of the moor, we abandoned the attempt and decided instead to visit Emley Moor and the infamous TV transmission tower which dominates the skyline for miles around.

Tuesday saw us heading off into the countryside again. With Mum directing, we managed this time to drive to the top of Royd Moor and visited the recently erected viewing point. Mum also introduced us to the delights of the local farm shop and café with homemade scones to die for. (How do you say scone, by the way - do you pronounce it to rhyme with phone or to rhyme with gone? For me, it's the former and I completely disagree with Dominic Byrne on Radio 1 who said this morning that my version is the 'posh' pronunciation!)

The sun finally arrived on Wednesday and we had a lovely day out at Warwick Castle. It's sometimes difficult to find places to visit that will appeal to all three children but we seemed to manage it this time. I think Cam found the ramparts walk with a nervous Joe and a completely fearless Daisy a little hairy, though! George doesn't like heights so we stayed safely at ground level and found other things to see.

Cam went back to work on Thursday and the children and I spent most of Thursday and Friday enjoying the sun in our local parks. Friday evening was Big Brother eviction night and I was happy to see sleazy Sezer get the chop. I don't think I've ever seen an evictee look so shocked as he did when his name was called.

Saturday was spent shopping, catching up on domestic chores and I accompanied Daisy to a birthday party at our local soft play area whilst Cam and the boys went for a bike ride. I was back at work yesterday but didn't have a lot to do. Presumably people have better things to do than phone for a moan when the sun is shining!

So here we are. Monday again. The boys are back at school, Daisy is chilling out after pre-school and it's time to choose my song for Musical Monday.

(Edited to add: Audioblog seems to be having some problems. Musical Monday will follow once normal service is resumed...)


Seven Days In Sunny June - Jamiroquai (Dynamite, 2005)

Happy Together

I did it! A trip to see my parents and I managed to avoid turning into Ms Mardy Bum! OK, so it was only an overnight stay, but progress, I feel, nonetheless. I would even go so far as to say I had a good time!

I'll update properly tonight. In the meantime, I'm off to Warwick Castle for a family day out...


Happy Together - The Jam (The Gift, 1982)

Other Voices

So, Bonnie has been evicted from The Big Brother House and whilst, on a personal level, she was not exactly the most offensive of housemates, I'm so pleased she has gone - if only so I no longer have to listen to that dreadful voice! Whilst I have nothing against regional accents per se - I don't exactly speak in Received Pronunciation myself - the Leicestershire accent (Bonnie is from Loughborough) has to be one of the worst the UK has to offer.

I'm not sure why I find the local accent so grating. I think perhaps it's beacause it sounds so lazy - almost like the speaker can't be bothered to finish off his words properly - for instance, replacing the ie or y at the end of a word with an 'eh' sound whilst er becomes 'ah'. An' if ya thought Bonneh wah bad, ya shoulda 'eard 'er sistah! Having seen Bonnie's sister, Lara, on Big Brother's Little Brother Yesterday, Bonnie's accent began to sound positively mild.

Living in Leicestershire, it was perhaps not a good idea to name my daughter Daisy - she's destined to get called Daiseh! So far my children have avoided developing a Leicester accent and long may that continue. Cam went to school in Leicester and managed to escape with his vowels intact but Cam's youngest brother has lived in Leicester all his life and has a noticeable Leicester twang.

I spent the first few years of my life in Portsmouth, moving up to my mum's home town of Barnsley at the age of around four. During my time at primary school, no one ever commented on the way I spoke but it certainly became an issue once I got to secondary school. Not having the regulation broad South Yorkshire accent, I was considered 'posh' and consequently began to modify my accent to fit in. Ironically, as soon as I moved away, a Yorkshire accent was the last thing I wanted and I set about losing it again.

The nature of my current job, involving a lot of time on the telephone, means that I'm exposed to the whole range of UK accents and, in more bored moments, I play a little game of guessing where people are from before I've located their details. I'm often woefully wrong but if someone from Barnsley has a 2 in their account number, I'll pinpoint them every time! There are some regional accents I could listen to all day - Geordie, Irish (both Northern and Southern), West Country; some I find irrationally amusing - Liverpool, Manchester and (rarely) some that are downright unintelligible!

I'm not sure what kind of accent I have these days - vaguely Northern/Midlands, I guess. Funnily enough, though, when I'm speaking to old schoolfriends or my family, I subconsciously lapse into broad Yorkshire. I've observed this chameleon quality in other people too. Cam works in Birmingham and when speaking to work colleagues on the phone, he definitely develops a slight Brummie accent!


Other Voices - The Cure (Staring At The Sea, 1986)

Mardy Bum

mardy n (dialect) a spoilt child. Also adj moody, sulky, whining.

Is it just me or does anyone else find themselves regressing into grumpy adolescence when staying in the parental home? Before I go any further, I should point out that I dearly love my parents; they've never been anything less than one hundred per cent supportive; they're fantastic grandparents and, over the years, have helped me out more times than I could possibly count. I realise that I'm incredibly lucky to have such wonderful parents and, in all honesty, I should not be sitting here writing this post. And yet, every time I spend more than a day or so in my childhood home, I begin to feel like a sulky teenager.

I am so completely intolerant that I begin to irritate myself! I find myself analysing the smallest things my parents do and inwardly seething. The way Mum prods her food slightly with her knife before cutting into it; the habit she has of not finishing sentences, leaving them hanging in the air with a "So...". The way Dad preaches the Gospel According To The Daily Mail and never wastes an opportunity to spread the word. Needless to say, I don't sit there and argue and rant and moan (as I may well have done in my teenage years). I bite my tongue and count down the days/hours until my escape.

I've tried to analyse why I feel the way I do and I think it all comes down to a loss of control. I am unable to live my life in the same way as I would in my own home. I am forced to adopt my parents' routines, to eat their food, live their lives. The independence I have enjoyed for more than twenty years is taken away and my destiny is once more in the hands of my parents. I dislike the person I become when I go back to Barnsley and every time I vow to try harder. Maybe next time it will work...


Mardy Bum - Arctic Monkeys (Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, 2006)