You can call me "guv".

A few months ago I felt prompted to apply for the role of parent governor at our school. The hubby and I have always thought that we would like to stand for it, A) to make decisions on important stuff,

B) to be more involved in our kids lives  and 

C) to be nosey.  

(Less A and B as much as C, if I'm honest.) 

(Not really, depending on who's reading this.) 

So I applied for it. 

I'm very, um, day-dreamy, I suppose you could call it, so I've never even toyed with the idea before. I can't really imagine me in meetings, talking about financial implications of something financial and other important official things. But this time I really wanted to do it and I can't really explain why that was. However I decided to apply for it because in my experience (around 6 years in this school), lots of people more popular and intelligent than me always apply and I thought it was pretty obvious I wouldn't win the vote. And I wasn't wrong. 

I must just interject at this point that the hubster once applied for parent governor position when our oldest was in reception. There were only 3 others that applied but he didn't get it. He only got 6 votes and 2 of those were from us. (We laugh about it now but back then....oh dear.) 

So I really didn't think I would win the popularity contest, and felt safe in applying. 

Then a few days ago the headmistress came to me and congratulated me. I looked blankly at her and thought "does she think I'm pregnant?" She registered my confusion and hurriedly explained that I had been appointed parent governor and that I should've been informed by now. I smiled and tried to hide the fear that I felt burning in my eyes. Then rang the husband to gloat. 

It turns out that no-one else even applied for the position and I was the only one. My goodness God, you have a sense of humour.  I won by default. 

Of course secretly I'm pleased and quite excited about the next chapter of my unwritten journey (bleurch) and of what the future holds. I have day dreamy moments of saving the school from closure or being commended by the headmistress for rescuing the pupils during a fire or (and this is my favourite), being given a bottle of wine at Christmas as a thank you for my attention to detail in the last financial meeting about important implications of financial things. 

My goodness I'm going to be tedious to live with. Haven't even been to my first meeting yet but am demanding the husband call me Guv and throw petals in front of me as I walk. He hasn't yet but I'm fairly confident I can make him........

E flipping bay.

I have been on a cleansing ritual (or something equally as flaky) to purge us as a family of all the junk we have acquired over the past few years so we would have good space as our children grow. That and we needed some cash. (Ok, it was mostly about the cash.) 

    eBay has been something I've dipped in and out of for the past few years, trying to find the odd bargain that might clutter up our house (oh the irony). And sometimes it's useful, does the job. The hubby, he's cynical, thinks everyone's out to take you for a buck. Me, I'm super trusting. 

    Anyway, my time came to sell a few bits and bobs. It was a startling thing, to find myself addicted to hunting the house to see what I could sell. Then posting it online and checking every few hours to find, occasionally, that someone was WATCHING it!! Eeee! Don't ask how I was when someone actually bid, it was like I'd been given a golden ticket and the destination was the eBay hall of fame. It's a good feeling. And for the most part I had very little difficulty with any customers, the odd message here and there but hey ho, all doable. 

    Then somebody by the name of (and the name has been changed slightly to protect the identity of my customer) 13smallchickens came along. I had put up a jigsaw puzzle (and at this point I will be honest and say it was one of mine. Yes, I had a jigsaw phase, 1000 pieces at a time and yes I went to counselling and have put it behind me...please do not bring this up again), and she, the lucky bidder, had won it. 

     I waited a few days for her to pay me then she sent a message. She lives locally and she informed me that she would come and pick it up. (Cheeky, but  I can go with it.) I messaged her and said ok, giving her my address. (Alright, alright I can hear you screaming FOOL at me, but I'm fairly new to this, remember?) I also told her (and this is where I get really stupid), that I would be out in the morning, that she would have to come in the afternoon. 

     She then informed me that I could leave it outside somewhere safe and that she would drop the money through the letter box. NOW I started to smell a rat and finally got the big guns involved....the hubby. He's so good with this stuff that he's like my own personal ombudsman. He took one look at me as I explained and I could see an inward groan. 

    I have to also note that at this point I checked her eBay page and she had some pretty awful comments..."possible scammer", "didn't pay", "wanted pick up but didn't want to wait", etc. Oh bother. She's going to rob us blind, bring her older brothers who resemble Barry Island Thor lookalikes, and leave her fag butt on the sofa to prove a point. (So what then does she want with a jigsaw?)

    I messaged back with my husbands fine advice and told her that I wasn't happy with leaving my precious Christmas jigsaw outside and that she could come before 10 or after 12 but my husband is ill at the moment and I don't want him disturbed. 

    So today I changed my plans and stayed home. Then I started to doubt she would even come at all. I was worried I would get a negative feedback on my otherwise spotless background. Oh the pressure. Anyway, 12.30 came and this woman pulled up outside my house and stepped out. She was older, with long greying hair held back by an Alice band. I met her at the door and I gave her the jigsaw. She said

"I came as late as possible because I didn't want to disturb your husband."

She looked at me expectantly, as if I was going to explain what was wrong, but there's no way I'm getting further into the lie. (What would I go for? Lymes disease? Pneumonia?) I just smiled and said, head cocked to one side

"Thank you, yes." 

She handed over the money, and that was it. You want to know the really stupid thing? The freaking jigsaw only went for 99p. 

The other half

So in just a few days it's my birthday. Every year it comes, and every year I have expectations of great and expensive presents (a surprise first class trip to New York, diamonds, a really nice facial cream that not only rejuvenates your skin but which also creates a portal into a parallel universe when daubed onto a wall - how cool would that be?) And every year I shed a little tear that I didn't receive the most great and expensive presents and that, thrown into the mix, I'm now a year older too. 

However this birthday is slightly different. This year, on the 25th Feb 2014, I will be able to say that I've been with my husband, the one and only Michael Fitchie, for exactly half of my life. Maybe I'm the only one that thinks this is worth celebrating and acknowledging? Who knows. But I think it's epic. 

(This picture was taken one day before the official "will you go out with me" question. He's the one with the eye patch. And not the girl.) 

So he's lush. He's funny. He sometimes really makes me mad because he farts, and it smells so bad that I have to breathe into my sleeve, but he finds it so funny that he becomes weak with laughter, resulting in me getting stroppy with him. (The last time he did that, however, I ended up throwing water on his head. Sobered him up pretty quickly, I can tell you. Hardcore, me.) He's hardworking, like, full on. He's intelligent. He's so good with computers and technical stuff it scares me. He's a bit sensitive. He's a great dad. He gets grumpy when he doesn't get to go on his bike. He's generous. He's a bit of a snob.  He doesn't mind being naked. (I'm currently struggling whether or not to put this in the positive or negative category.)

He's... (Actually, you know what, it has to be a negative. Too many of my friends have seen parts of him they weren't supposed to.) He's....(though we do have a giggle about it, and anything you laugh about has to be positive, surely?) He's really crap at beating me at stuff...like wii tennis. (Totally pan him). He's a great husband. He's sociable. He's kind. He's supportive (even when I was in my cross stitching phase.) He loves to share (like the time I had morning sickness and puked in the car...he had to stop and get out to share the vomiting love.) He's strong...crazy strong. He loves anything poo related. He's extremely talented (drumming, sewing, growing a beard, looking like cheesy famous people).  

He's many, many good things. 

There's more, of course there is, but I have a sneaky suspicion that I will bore you with the details. 

And the laughs we've had together are innumerable. 

And as I write this he's downstairs wrapping all my wonderful presents...I'm almost certain that there will be a silk dress embroidered by blind midgets from china which was started 2 years last October and which has real emeralds sown into the shoulder pads...but if there's not then I'm ok with that because (puke buckets at the ready...) he's the best gift I could have ever wanted for any birthday. He's the gift that keeps on giving (ok, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth and had to swallow it again.) And he does a stirling job of getting my it right. Every. Single. Time. (Though there was that one year when he bought me plastic flowers...)

Love you chap xx