Me in Mid-Ulster

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We were heading in to the library this morning and were intending to call at Asda for a few things, but the Sweep road was completely closed off. You could see lots of Police presence and there was the sound of sirens in the air too. This was all new to my little boy, but of course, it wasn’t new to me. It’s funny how you’re instantly transported back to childhood and incidences that are long forgotten just by the sound of sirens and the feeling of tension. Who else remembers the countless times we were all shooed out of the Richmond centre on a busy Saturday because of bomb alerts!?

Anyway, I met my friend who had been in the town since 6 this morning and she said she had been a bit worried by the sirens she heard but she had no idea what was happening. We assumed it was a bomb alert and being Northern Irish we both headed about our normal mornings not worrying too much- after all, if it hadn’t exploded and no one was hurt then hopefully things would be ok. Frightening, but O.K.

Then it dawned on me, there is a nursery of small children in the area. Imagine those poor wee critters being ushered out of the road at 7:30 this morning. Or even worse, imagine what could have happened to those innocent children, had the device not been noticed. It makes me absolutely sick when I sit down and realise the magnitude of what could have happened in the town today.

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This day 29 years ago Charles and Diana got married. At the same time my poor mother was in Altnagelvin hospital having me. While she was in labour nurses kept popping in and out of the room to see the TV in the staff room! They were afraid of missing the Royal Wedding. It was well over by the time I eventually arrived at 6pm weighing 6lb 13oz.

So, 29. I’m kicking the ass of thirty officially now. It’s a bit of a strange feeling. I didn’t think I’d care about getting to 30… but I do!

Anyway, I went back to Dungannon this morning to coo over the dressing table again. I think it might be my birthday pressie. I still loved it today which is always a good sign.

Ood.

Posted on: July 5, 2010

This is Ood (or an Ood, or the Ood or something like that; my son would know better). He is the most recent Doctor Who addition to my home. Isn’t he fairly yuck?

The Ood

This is my little girl acting out her favourite book. It’s Penguin by Polly Dunbar. She’s loves it.
Click the link to watch her. (Promise it’s totally legit, it’ll just take you to You Tube!)

Penguin

Salad :(

Posted on: June 28, 2010

I love sweets. I have the worst sweet tooth you will ever come across. But I’m being made go on a detox by my doctor because there’s something that I’m eating that I am intolerant to.

Please be milk, please be bread… please don’t be sweets!

salad, salad, salad

I love Facebook. I am ever so slightly addicted to it. Just last week some old pictures of me surfaced on the page of an old friend. We all worked together at the time and had so many good times together. One of the other girls commented that we should all have a reunion night out to remember the craic we had way back then. The thing is, while I love looking at the old photographs, when a reunion was suggested, the first thing that came to my mind was how to get out of going!

I have not fallen out with the group involved in the photograph. I love hearing about their lives now and it is lovely to keep up to date with how exciting things are for them. But one of them commented on the photograph “Look how young and carefree we were back then” and another said “We had no problems, wish I could go back to then!” and when I looked at the photograph of the 21 year old me, I just thought to myself, there’s absolutely no way on earth that I would want to go back there.

I had never believe that life gets better with age. But for me it has. At 21 I had no idea what I was doing in life. My love life sucked. I had no confidence in myself. The made-up, smiley me in the photograph was more troubled than I have been in a long time. The people who were filtering in and out of my life at the time were toxic, but I had not got the maturity to realise this. It would be another 4/5 years before I found my feet and settled in to the me I am now.

So while part of me would love to meet up again with the girls, the very thought of going back in time would be a terrifying prospect. Would I revert back into that silly little girl?

Am I being a spoil sport?

I got another bit of my son’s bedroom mural completed. He came bursting in to our bedroom in the morning shouting “There are Daleks in my room

Enter the Daleks

He reckons cybermen are coming next. But I need to paint the vortex before they get here!


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