Childrens Personalised Books

While beauty is almost as subjective as love, it’s something that you can explore and discover in yourself over time.

* Even though what is considered beautiful varies from person to person, there are a few broad characteristics that most people seem to agree on:

o Health is beautiful. There’s nothing beautiful about destroying your body, even if you do it slowly by neglecting your body.
o Character is beautiful. Think of the most beautiful people you know; now imagine them spitting on a homeless person. They’re not very beautiful anymore, are they?
* Tell yourself every day when you wake up: “I am beautiful. No one can take that away from me.”

The Old Man suggested a fry up for dinner yesterday so not one to look the gift horse so to speak- come on ladies how often do the men actually offer to cook- strike while the iron’s hot!!!!

So I said I’d get the essentials- eggs, beans, bread and beef sausage- The Old man has to have beef- no he’s not a Muslim- his reasons for not eating pork are all to do with seeing a boil on a pigs leg when he was 12- yeah right!!

With no time to run down to Sainsbury’s I thought I’d try the local Halal shop. Surveying the meat counter with interest; looked nice and clean and the meat looked healthy. Two types of sausage were down in the bottom corner- one a highly suspicious looking thing that resembled a baby’s umbilical cord and a much more enticing pinkish one.

With not even a hint of a pig in the whole of the shop I confidently pointed at the pink sausage and said I’ll have some of those please. Not quite understanding what the shopkeeper said I nodded happily in my choice of sausage, and didn’t think twice when he began rolling up link after link of the fat chubby meat rolls. As the shopkeeper grinned and wrapped up the parcel he said £7.50- I nearly choked- “what” said I a bit louder than anticipated.”£7.50 for sausage”?. Too embarrassed to admit I didn’t know how much a kilo was, I happily took the £1.50 discount he offered me and hurried outside with the priceless chipolatas.

I left the Old Man cooking- brave I know- but duty called- whilst I picked up the 6yr old who sensibly ate at her friends.

On arrival home a gust of freezing cold air hit me- just before the revolting smell of old socks. There were the Old Man and the 11yr old sitting huddled under blankets back door and windows flung open to relieve the house of the smell of the richly priced sausage. Needless to say we didn’t attempt to taste them!

So if anyone out there wants a kilo minus a few beef sausage from the Halal shop- give us a ring. They’re going really cheap!!

Thursday night was a big night in the household diary. The 11yr old was playing table tennis at the Royal Albert Hall- not only was he playing- he was playing celebrities! So I had my hair done- well I’m not going to miss a chance to be Mother of the talented one- and who knows who I could mingle with?

The Old Man was tired before we even set off for it, yes he gets up for work in the fish van at 4am- but hey it’s not everyday you can say your son’s played at the Albert Hall!! On our way to the car he commented about the length- or lack of it- of the 6yr olds skirt. I could feel a Victor Meldrew evening coming on!!

A nice drive through Hyde Park, waving encouragingly at the running club congregating at the pond, calmed things down a bit and got us in the sporting mood. The hair was looking bouncier than ever and the outfit perfect- not dressy, but not too casual. Make up a bit on the heavy side for me, but I was sure under the subtle lights of the Albert Hall it would knock years of my 44.

Not a chance!!!  The harshest lights I’ve ever seen greeted me on arrival highlighting my pan stick orange face and ghoulish looking eye shadow. The jeans and trainer dressed crowd probably took me to be the half time entertainment. Even the 6yr olds skirt started to look a bit on the short side to me too. Still nothing was going to ruin our night.

We took our seats and watched the Table tennis Masters take to the table. With my new-found knowledge of ping pong, I clapped and cheered in all the right places- adding a few “ooh great serve, ah wonderful backhand top spin”.

Only one more game to go till the ‘celebrity challenge’ and our golden moment!

The 6 yr old picked this moment for a “I need the Loo” run. The Old Man was reliving his schoolboy Champion days, giving advice on the World Number 6’s spin serve- yeah right!! Gladly clown woman shuffled past everyone again and paid £13 for two drinks and a bag of cashews. This was it the moment- as we approached the doors we were stopped by a woman saying “you can’t go in yet, the match is on”- “Yes I know it’s my sons’ match, my moment, my spot of fame- I must go in”- No amount of talking would budge her. We finally got in as we saw the 11yr old leaving centre stage after beating Martin Offiah and some Olympic hurdler, and the announcer saying “one for the future, a superstar”. He didn’t even get to wave to his Mother in the crowd- as she was outside the door crunching expensive cashews!!!

At the end of the night I had to battle through the crowd carrying the now asleep 6yr old, skirt up around her waist, tights on show, as the Old Man went to get the car, to get to the 11yr old surrounded by people. Sir Phillip Green had his arm round him saying how he’d been beaten by him backstage. No Top Shop discount for me then!!

Signalling to him to meet outside I decided to forget mingling I was too ruddy tired. Of course it was raining as I got outside, turning the sleek, shiny hairdo back to its original ball of frizz. The heavy mascara had run into the eyes making me look like a panda with an orange face.

As I tucked the 11yr old in bed he said, “Mum, it was great, what a shame you didn’t see it, you would have been so proud” “I’ve had the best night ever I said”, and I meant it- I mean it’s not everyday you get to kiss a TT superstar goodnight now is it??

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