Angel Jem's City Cottage

In another one of my alter egos I occasionally write articles for my parish magazine. I go to St Peter's Church Woolton. It's a nice middle class church in a nice middle class suburb of Liverpool. Its biggest claim to fame is that the church hall is where John Lennon and Paul McCartney met for the first time . There's a plaque and all sorts of tourists, mostly Japanese and American, come by to go Wow! Also, Eleanor Rigby is buried in the church yard. Apparently John Lennon had lots of time to hang around in church yards. Who knew? Any way, at 2 this morning inspiration struck. It's always 2am, never 2pm. Still small voice, I expect, the one I can't hear during the day for the TV, the kids, the husband asking for his tea.... Anyway, I am proud of this article and so, though I hate to inflict a much longer post than usual on you I wanted to give you the sneek preview. I've sent this off for the November issue of the Mag', so you really are reading it a month a...

I hope I spelled reminiscenses right. can't be bothered to check; someone out there will tell me if it's wrong. Anyhoo, the kids are having a nostalgia day. My 10, 8 and 6 year old are all sat (bouncing) watching Toy Story (cert U) which they haven't watched in.... 2 years? 3 years? It is nice to know that they are still soft enough to get pleasure from that... especially as I just taped Cars for them to watch wondering whether Pixar still had the power to hold them. Yes, it does.

It's a nice day. That is to say, it's not raining. I wonder if English people always viewed a day when it wasn't raining as nice. There must be a reason why as a country we so eagerly embraced the umbrella. I don't suppose it was for its properties as a parasol. My favourite book ever starts, "There was no possibility of taking a walk that day..." just because it was raining. And there must be a very good reason why we like to talk about the weather.How many stilted polite conversations have opened with, "Lovely day, isn't it?" or "Raining again!" It's as if the psyche and the weather are connected. Yesterday was all gloom and despondency, the US banks were folding (and my comiserations go to anyone caught up in that fiasco) and we waited with baited (bated? I should look it up; you know I won't, so delete as applicable) breath to see what would happen to HBOS. It took me until 10am this morning to realise that HBOS WAS Halifax ...

I've got the new Marie Claire idees. I have a friend whose husband works in France and gets it for me. Na na na na na. I scanned the front in to my little scanner and here it is. I also wanted to scan an inside page as well, but when the scanner made a definite clunk and said there were 15 minutes to go until the scan was done, I used my great powers of detection and figured out it's fubarred. (I think that's a rude acronym, but it works and I would never use the whole sentence in front of anyone) So I got on the amazon.fr website and found this. And this. I've officially started my Christmas shopping. Tee hee.

It has finally given up the ghost.... just before we went away, my little point and press finally breathed its last. Three years of close confinement in a Cath Kidston pouch and it had finally had enough. It has been sadly missed the last few weeks. Here are my children paddling at Bourton on the Water... Here we are watching the Big Spider in Liverpool.... And here is Number Two hanging off the edge of his new top bunk, while long-suffering DP squeezes into a small bottom bunk. I need a camera. I really need a camera Oh, and, by the way, I'm back.....