Two of my favourite bloggers have tagged me recently, Wake Up And Smell The Coffee and Mopsa.
Mopsa's Meme asks for eight things I would like to happen in 2008. I am going to say straight away that I am not going to ask for world peace, an end to famine and pestilence, people to be kind to each other or any of that sort of stuff. It would all be very nice, but I have to be realistic.
Mainly my hopes for 2008 focus around home, family, health and happiness and to be honest, I'd pour all eight wishes into that. Selfish, I know, but we've had a tough time over the last few years in some ways, and frankly I feel my little clan deserves a break. So forgive me Mopsa, for being so introspective, but what I would really like to see is:
My son to get the recognition, support and respect he deserves.
My daughter and son in law to continue to enjoy their happiness.
My husband to realise that he doesn't have to hold the entire world on his shoulders and learn to relax.
Me to find a way to reach my personal writing goals.
OK, now for the rest of the world:
I'd really like to see Madeleine McCann returned safe and unharmed to her parents.
I'd like all the troops in Iraq to come home.
I'd like to see a change in attitude towards older people. Respect.
I'd like our Government to stop messing with people's lives and give professionals the opportunity to know best.
Oh-oh, watch out, I think I see pigs flying overhead.
Wakeup's Meme is to give seven previously undisclosed unusual facts about myself. I don't really think there's much you don't already know about me other than:
I once nicked a Bounty from our local newsagents (I was seven), tried to eat it but couldn't, guiltily threw it away, went back into the shop and put more than twice the original cost of the Bounty on the counter and ran out in tears. Odd girl. Still hate Bounties. Still have an over-developed sense of justice and fair play. Plus I was scared of being struck by lightning in retribution for a terrible sin.
Around the same age, I also dropped a toy car out of my bedroom window to scare my brother who was in the garden below, but instead of just hitting the ground beside him and making him jump, it embedded itself in his head. Blood everywhere. I blamed the boy next door, obviously. Well, it was his car before I "borrowed" it. Later I confessed to get him off the hook, burst into tears and ran off. again extremely worried about being struck by lightning.
The girl next door (whose brother's car I nicked) was horrible to me (I wonder why), so I carefully took the top off a bottle of milk which was on their doorstep and dropped a piece of fossilised cat poo into it and replaced the silver top. Later on I realised that this was an awful thing to do, ran round to confess, but they were all sitting there drinking cups of milky tea so I just burst into tears and ran off (see a pattern forming here?). At that point was convinced it was only a matter of time before the clouds parted and...... yes, you've guessed it. Kaboom.
When we left my childhood home I was eleven, leaving my best friend, every one of my relatives and all of the above fun and games behind and moved to Birmingham, and I was so lonely and unhappy I cried for two solid years (no kidding) but no one at home noticed. Or, so I thought, cared. By this time I think they were probably getting bored with the waterworks. It was such a terrible time, I think this was the lightning strike I'd feared for so long, and even now I could cry thinking about it.
In the 60's my friends and I used to wear mini-skirts so short they only just covered our knickers, but only if we didn't bend forward. We couldn't decently walk up the stairs at New Street Station and there often used to be a crowd of lads standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up and bumping into each other. But at least it taught me how to climb stairs or stand on the escalator sideways and block the rear view with my handbag. Unfortunately, these days I would need a much bigger bag.
In my 20's I did a bit of modelling (before you ask, it was the commercial type) and once modelled for a kitchen bin advert. Yes folks, it was my foot on that pedal and my hand on that lid. They didn't ever pay me or even give me a free bin. They must have thought I was rubbish.
And finally, I have over the years astounded many people with my slight psychic ability and fearsome ESP, but because of these "gifts" I regularly scare the shit out of myself before I really need to. No wonder I have high blood pressure.
But enough already, that's more than I've told anyone about myself, all in one go, ever. Without bursting into tears or running off, that is.