Kids’ currency

Posted on August 27, 2013 by Dubai Mum

Sports camp has been fantastic at keeping my munchkins occupied and active this summer.  By the time we reach home, they are not fit for much more than vegging on their Lazyboys and watching TV.  My 3 were regulars at camp from day 1 and had become friendly with a lot of the other kids.  DS2, in particular, had found his social feet and was happily playing with kids in his own age group and above.  Whilst we all look forward to a break from the heat and going home for the summer holidays, I always have a niggling concern about sending the kids back to sports camp after the summer hiatus.  Will there be any familiar faces there?  Will the same coaches be there?  Will there be as many kids as earlier in the summer?  I know they will have each other, but still, it can’t be easy walking into a sports hall each day to what could potentially be a room of new faces.

Well…..it turns out the I induced extra grey hairs for no reason.  What it does seem however, is that I completely underestimated the power of the Trashies, Moshis and football trading cards (not matter which season!), and of course, iPad’s Minecraft hold over 5-9 year olds!

On the first day back after the summer hols, DS2 gravitated towards a much bigger and older boy who was shuffling football trading cards like an experienced croupier.  Within seconds he struck up a conversation about how many cards he had.  I was gobsmacked and chuffed at the same time!  My baby has come such a long way……

But my trip down memory lane is irrelevant here.  This is about kids’ cash; their currency of middle ground (and, where necesseary, trading).  Trashies, Moshis, football cards….all are tradeable goods.  This is all new to me.  When being begged (on a daily basis) by my lot to buy these animated blobs of plastic and printed (and often outdated) card, I understood them to be collectors’ items; ‘collect all 100 in the series types of thingys’.

But now I see it all differently.  These little fiddly things (each of which by the way has a name which is only privvy to those of of us between 5-9 years – just ‘cos us oldies cannot remember more than 3 names at any one time!), are an introduction to a conversation with an unfamiliar face.  If ever there was a perfect ice breaker, it’s these thingymabobs.  Kids babble on to each other about the unquantifiable number of facts which can be attributed to Moshis or Trashies, without even knowing if they speak the truth.

‘I have 5,000 football cards’, I heard one child boast.

DS2 upped the ante.

Really?  Have I paid for more?  Have I paid more than AED700 (Euros140, GBP116)????…..’Really?????’ I ask quietly in my head, furious that something so shortlived could have eaten into my wallet so much!!!

Like the Beatles’ groupies, the kids hover around the most interesting offerings.  Like magpies pecking at silver topped milk bottles (am so showing my age now!), their itchy little fingers twitch, as the wheels of their ‘antiques roadshow’ brains do the maths to decide what to offer in return for a ‘rare’, ‘common’ or a ‘Torres when he played for Liverpool’ card.

Boundaries are crossed.  Enmities are forgotten.  All are friends.  All are equal.  Beautiful.

We adults could learn a thing or two.

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Nesting??

Posted on August 24, 2013 by Dubai Mum

In the past week I have had a strong urge to purge; to purge my kitchen cupboards, my wardrobes, the kids’ wardrobes, even my office desk and bookcases, of all the unnecessary, dated items.  For quite some time DH and my office roomie have been nagging me to do this, however, ever the procrastinator (and a staunch opponent of most forms of housework), I ignored the pleas of the men in my life!

However having returned from our summer holidays, and counting down the days to the start of the school term, my brain seems to have discovered its ‘organisational’ cortex.  Perhaps the many cobwebs which had smothered my organisational cortex were blown away as I walked along the beach back home.  Perhaps the unexpected heatwave melted them.   If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought I were behaving as if I were making room for another little one…….

This evening as I plonked myself on a pile of about-to-be donated clothes on the floor of my boys’ bedroom I remembered the real reason I dawdle when it comes to this task…….the memories; the stories that transport me back to the days of when the kids were younger.  Clothes are like photos, especially the favourites.  You look at them and go back in time.

As I pull out various tops and shorts and hold them up against the light I coo,  ‘Ahhhhhhh, Remember when DS2 refused to wear anything but these tracksuit bottoms?’ talking to no one in particular.

Gazing lovingly at the tattiest pair of tracksuit bottoms you have ever seen, it is impossible to think these old things mean anything.  They have patches on the patches and still the knees have worn through leaving the shaggy, fraying edges of a mishapen hole behind the patches.  DS2 wore these trousers (or as he called them…..’snugglies’) almost every day to nursery.  They were his absolute favourite, his comfort clothes.  By his final year at nursery the snugglies were flying half mast; a combination of growth spurts and washing shrinkage.

And then there was DS1’s favourite short/t-shirt combo.  The shorts were actually from a pyjama set.  The t-shirt a gift from Nana.  They didn’t match, but they combined his favourite colour at the time, turqoise (for the shorts) and his favourite instrument, a guitar, on a black t-shirt.  Worn and holey (due to over washing), it feels soft and cuddly.  How can I give this away or throw it out???????  These are like favourite teddies and comfort toys.

Then there’s the twins first Irish rugby tops.  As good as new……a gift to newborns but which they wore until they were 3 (the shirts were 18-24 months).  To dispose of those would be heresy!

As for DD’s faves…….her Snoopy t-shirts.  Faded and mishapen, they now resemble something more like midriff t-shirts.  Not something she is willing or interested in wearing at this stage (thank God!).  But she loved her Snoopy t-shirts.  She wore them to bed, and refused to take them off the next day.  I am sure her record was 3 days straight of sleeping in and wearing the blue and pink Snoopy t-shirts (having had twins first, I learned quickly to choose my battles).  This was not a battle to take on.  She also loved and loves her snugglies and leggings.  She’ll wear holey and food stained clothes.  Her snugglies can be so long the ends double up as socks on her feet.  It can be 45 degrees outside and DD will insist on wearing her fleece lined track suit bottoms; not a princess dress in sight!

As for the purge of my kitchen cupboards……it was just to get rid of the ‘past by the sell by date’ food.

And the office purge…..I really need some filing/storage space!  Why do I avoid it???  I am in denial.  If you could see the amount of paperwork I have accumulated over the past 3.5 years…….I can hear forests crying…..

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Post summer holiday exercise

Posted on August 23, 2013 by Dubai Mum

Sigh…the athletics World Championships have come to an end.  Despite, over time, having become the ultimate cynic about performance enhacing drugs (for the avoidance of doubt, I believe every athlete is taking some form of performance enhancing drug; it’s just a question of who has the best dealer!), I still enjoy watching world class athletes do their thing.  I am the one elbowing the kids from the front row view to watch perfectly formed, trained, athletic phenomena attempt to achieve gold.

For as long as I can remember I have been mesmerised by athletics on TV.  I remember crawling out of my teenage bed to watch one of the most hyped 100m men’s finals at the Seoul Olympics 1988.  I admit it: I rooted for Johnson.  Turns out both numbers 1 and 2 were using performance enhancing drugs.

Having recently arrived back from the sunny Emerald isle where everyone walks everywhere, I have to say, I am missing the walking.  If you need milk and a loaf of bread, you don’t look for the keys to your 4×4; you walk to and from the shop carrying the goods.  If you want to go to the beach, you walk the 15 minutes it takes to get there.  Public transport means just that!  Not a taxi service which offers a door to door service, but a service to which you walk and board for a distance you can’t walk quickly enough.

But back to my point.  I miss walking.

For my fair skin and, as far as I am concerned, overactive sweat glands, it is still too sticky to risk an evening walk in Dubai.  Sure, the temperatures have dropped by a few degrees but anything above 30 celsius scares me.  As a result, my only option is the treadmill which has been feeling rather lonely and neglected as I worked out to DVDs over the summer.

Jumping on my treadmill again this week was interesting.  Re-acquainting myself with my treadmill, I was bombarded with a a lot of fancy flashing lights and numbers which keep me informed, by the second, about how many calories have been burned, how fast I am walking/plodding, distance covered and even heart rate.  Granted my treadmill is a few years old at this stage.  I am sure the latest treadmills of today recycle your sweat into an organic, isotonic drink served at chilled temperatures, massage your increasingly tiring and aching limbs, all the while mopping your brow.  However, I am happy enough with my treadmill that seems very determined to highlight, in bright neon lights, my fitness inadequacies.

My ‘personal trainer’, the green light, blitzed and hopped around the virtual track at what seemed like an impressive speed.  I was impressed.  Taking a closer look, I recalled the track replicated a real track (guess you can tell it’s been a while!).  400m/quarter mile per lap.  Each 100m is broken down to about 10 flashy light points.  OMG those damned flashy lights crawled by.  Now, I am not expecting to be even close to world record breaking times over 100m, but I did not expect to be soooo sloooowwww.

When I realised just how slowly I was ‘speedwalking’ 100m, I nearly fell off the monotonous black belt which was assisting my forward propulsion (’tis true…. exercise may not always be good for you!)  Here I am, trying to put in a session of much needed cardio knowing Usain Bolt could still outrun me if he were blindfolded, hopping  backwards whilst carrying (and not dropping) a tray of crystal glasses in either hand.

To think the 100m record is now under 10 seconds.  That’s less than one second for every 10 metres.  To be able to run that fast seems superhuman.  It just seems impossible that a human could cover that much ground in that blink of an eye.  What training and dedication must it take to achieve that?  Performance enhancing drugs aside….the athletes still have to follow their nutrition and exercise programmes to the letter, and that requires monumental commitment as well as a physical and mental strength which only a few possess.

I shouldn’t be too worried about what the green flashing light is telling me when I am speedwalking/jogging/plodding on my treadmill.  An Olympian I will never be.  As long as I can exercise without incurring too many aches or pains, I will be happy with my pace, whatever that may be.

 

 

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The wisdom of kids

Posted on August 22, 2013 by Dubai Mum

This afternoon DD began flicking through a photo album I made for DH when he turned 30.  Having collaborated with the in-laws, I managed to obtain a photo for each year of his tender 30 years (I know tender is not a word generally used to describe 30, but when you are staring down a barrel ((that could be a gun or a barrel of beer!) at 40 and asking yourself where the last decade vanished, it is!)).

It is so cute to observe kids looking through photos of when Mummy and Daddy were young(er).  The mere thought that we existed before they came along is almost inconceivable to them.  When I see photos of DH when he was a kid, I recognise him instantly; the kids don’t!

When DD came across the 22nd year photo she announced, ‘he looks very wise’.

A guffaw of laughter burst from my lungs.

‘What did you say?’ I asked for clarification, thinking I may have misheard.

‘He looks very wise.  The round glasses make him look like he knows everything‘ she elaborated.

Now she tells me.  2 months ago I bought very expensive rectangular glasses….

Keen to see Daddy when he was a baby, DS2 forced his way onto the sofa to grab a ‘looksee’.

‘How old was Daddy when he got bald?’ he asked seriously.

Another guffaw of laughter from me.

‘Well, Daddy blames me for that.  Until he met me, he had longish naturally bleached blonde hair’, I replied.

There are many things for which I am happy to take credit; that is not one of them!  I need to teach my kids about genetics!

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Summer holidays

Posted on August 20, 2013 by Dubai Mum

It’s funny how from January of each new year the countdown to summer unwittingly begins.  Summer is a relief from the daily grind.  No more school runs.  No more rushing out the door at 7ish each morning.  No more after school activities.  No more homework (a big ‘phew’ from me on this one!).

But yet, 2 weeks into the summer and many seem to be complaining about how difficult they find it to entertain their housebound kids during the hottest months of the Dubai year.

This got me thinking.  I too look forward to a mix up of the annual academic daily grind.  By June I am so done with school pick ups.  To minimise exposure to the searing heat (and hence minimise the so ‘not now’ sweaty glow), one needs to get a decent parking spot with minimal walking to and from the school gates.  To ahieve this one needs to arrive a good 20-25 minutes before the bell tolls.  Sitting in an idling car for that length of time, even with AC, is not comfortable.  Then there comes the walk to collect the children and re-trace those steps to the car, laden down with school bags, cumbersome and monumentally sized artwork, as well as other school parahenalia they pick up from their friends.  It feels more like an ultimate desert endurance test than a school run…….for which I did not sign up.

So yes….I am glad to see the back of those days for 10 weeks.

I enrol the kids in one of the many and varied summer camps available over the school break.  DH drops them off before 9am and I collect them at 3.  School hours are 8am – 2pm.  Result!

In summer I find myself on ‘go slow’ mode, but in a good way.  I find myself in less of a dash, less harried.  Ahhh…this was what working life was like before munchkins.  I do not need to make like a F1 driver down Al Khail road in the morning.  I don’t reach the office before 9.  I saunter in, all relaxed and chilled, ready to start my 4 hours.   I leave between 1-2pm.  This still leaves me enough time to pop to the grocery store and stock up on fresh supplies rather than having to rely on the weekly weekend grocery shop which usually wilts by Tuesday evening.  I am not rushed or stressed.  I collect the worn out and stinky feet kids (the one downside to sports camp!).  Despite their overheated, overtired meltdowns, I remain calm ( a far cry from the school pick up days which see me chase my frizzy tail in a sweaty blur!).

The drive home is 15 minutes…as opposed to the 20 from school.

When we reach, I plonk them in front of the TV (the benefits of no homework); goodness knows they are too tired for anything more challenging.  I jump on my treadmill, something I would not have the time to do during the school year.  Ferrying the kids to and from after school activities each day, combined with the homework schedule, leaves little room for burning those extra calories.  Indeed, during the academic year the only exercise I manage to squeeze in is taking extra deep breaths when I am stuck in traffic or when I am counting to 10 (breathing correctly apparently burns more calories and probably equates to a yoga move!)!

By dinnertime I am feeling calm, strangely rested and virtuous!

Even dinnertime activity is mixed up over the summer break.  I have more time to try out new dishes rather than have my helper robotically rustle up the same old reliables each week.  If the kids don’t like the new recipes, I have time to revert to the old favourites.  I think DH enjoys this summer change very much.  Turns out there is only so much spaghetti bolognese a grown man can tolerate!

If I didn’t fear that my children would forget how to read or add, in a way, I wish we could have more summer holidays…….

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I have now seen it all

Posted on August 19, 2013 by Dubai Mum

As a mum of 3, I thought I had seen it all.  Indeed I thought I had bought it all.  I thought there was not a contraption, gadget, or gizmo that would help me raise the most perfect, well adjusted, talented, brainy, well rounded children who would be set to hit the ground running by the time they were potty trained, all the while making me look like a fresh and breezy yummy mummy, which I had not bought.

There was the Quinny buggy (from a comfort perspective it did the trick but for desert babies, it had too much insulation), Bumbo seats (DD managed to slink out of hers on her second insertion…), Dr Brown’s milk bottles (not quite convinced they worked without the added doses of anti colic meds),  Vanchi nappy bag (to die for), Swedish Svan high chairs made from sustainably forested trees (oh they were such a pain to clean!) Lamaze toys (interesting to babies, an eyesore for parents), Baby Einstein DVDs and CDs (recent research shows their effect to be akin to ‘dumbing down’), whistling potties (the sounds freaked the kids out), complete organix range of teething goodies (love ’em but so pricey in Dubai), PCB and BPA free toys (which will soon free your wallet of any paper money!), Sophie the giraffe, names embroidered on beanbags, blankies and towels (they couldn’t read their names…they associated by colour!), sleep buddy solutions ( which never really solved night terrors and restless boo boos), and of course only organic nappy cream for my bubs’ tushies (which was more like mint smelling vaseline at 5 times the price)!

I would like to think my children have turned out OK and are well rounded little human beings (or, depending on your perspective, whirling dervishes) who throw themselves into every new experience life has to offer, no matter how mundane.  However, I do wonder exactly how much of this comes down to acquiring the Mummy ‘must haves’.  Did they notice anything at a time in their lives when their primary responsibilities were to eat, poop and sleep?  Sure, the colours, music and toys provided a modicum of entertainment, and the buggy offered a sweet ride….but what about the rest????  Was the music better than Mummy or Daddy singing lullabies?  Were the toys more fun than playing peekaboo and hide and seek?  Was the buggy better than a hug?

So, imagine my surprise today when I was flicking through Time Out Dubai Kids, and saw an advert which showed that Bugaboo and Andy Warhol (or rather the executors of his legacy) have teamed up together to create the ‘Andy Warhol Bugaboo’.  Just like priceless art, they are  referred to as ‘collections’; the flowers collection; and the cars collection.  A marketing coup for Bugaboo indeed.  The buggies are striking; beautiful in fact. The price tag does not match that of an original but I do wonder why the artwork adorns the outside of the buggy and not also the inside.  The bub can’t see it.  He/She can’t marvel at its beauty and be inspired by Warhol’s brilliance.

Have buggies/strollers become the new Vuitton, Louboutin, Fendi, Gucci, Jimmy Choo?

I look forward to the day when Bugaboo uses the ‘Campbells Soup Tin’ design for their buggies……

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A big Ooooopppsss!

Posted on August 18, 2013 by Dubai Mum

I really believe many women would love to be in my position right now! It is true I have a very good life. Living in the land of (almost) eternal sunshine and blue skies, waking up each day is a pleasure. I have a gem of a part time job which let’s me spend time with the munchkins in the afternoons after school. Like many families in Dubai I have live in help which makes my life so much easier when I return home after almost 10 hours of working and ferrying the children around to Dubai to afterschool activities.

Alas it is not for those reasons that today I would be the envy of many……but rather because of DH’s transgression.  Today DH inflicted a serious amount of damage to my car…..yes, you read it right…..DH damaged my car! I wouldn’t be feeling half as smug if he had done it to his own car and would be flicking through the yellow pages looking for a reputable body repair shop or divorce lawyer if I had nearly ripped off a car door on either car….

No….your eyes do not deceive you….DH started his day by mangling the door on the driver side of my car.

He thought the car was in park.  It wasn’t.  It was in reverse.  The driver’s door was open and he was half way out of the car.  Once he took his foot off the brake the car moved very quickly backwards (we shall not go into the excuses and problems with automatic cars which have P and R so close together on the gearbox).  Split second decision making forced DH to try to pull in the door and reach for the brake at the same time.  He got the brake…..but unfortunately Pippy (as the driver’s door on my car is lovingly known!)  hit the garden wall and was forced far beyond her opening limitations, and she was practically ripped her from her sturdy, metal hinges.

The story goes he had been to Starbucks in Motor City across the way from us, to get French baked treats for the kids’ breakfast.  He had the mini service of my car on his mind.  He thought about leaving the car running and dropping off breakfast before heading back out to get to the garage  while it was still early.  But as we ladies know, men are not known for their mulit-tasking ability.  Doing more than one task at a time is a near impossibility.  Thinking about more than one thought at a time can lead to global destruction.

The consequences of this attempt at ‘multi-tasking thinking’ are now sitting in a garage waiting to see if they can be repaired at goodness only knows what cost…..and DH had booked a hire car as cover for the week.

Car repairs and insurance etc is a tricky process in Dubai.  If one has an accident, the police must be called.  After hearing both sides and looking at the cars, the police decide who was ‘in the right’ and who was ‘in the wrong’ (there is actually a lot more to it than that, but this is not the right post for that!).  If you come away with the green form…you have the all clear and just need to submit that to your insurance company.  Even if you hit a pillar in a car park, or as DH just did, your own garden wall, the police should be called so the green form can be issued for insurance purposes.  DH didn’t call the police.  Why?  Not quite sure, but I am sure male pride had something to do with it!

The Nissan dealer refused to help because DH did not have a police report.  So he took the car to our reliable British mechanics, A2B,  who said they will try to fix it.  It could take a while.  The mechanic has been asking colleagues and customers to guess how the damage was caused at AED10 a guess.  The door can close but the front end of the door looks like it was melted by Superman’s laser beams.  At the last count, the mechanic  was AED50 up…….at least I am not the only one profiteering from DH’s embarrassment!

I don’t know if it’s just me or women in general, but damage to a car is just one of those things that happens (especially in Dubai where we drive everywhere and there are so many lunatics on the roads!).  Yes, it’s annoying.  Yes, I get annoyed with myself….but it is not the worst of things that can happen.  Men, on the other hand, react differently; almost as if it were a matter of life and death.  I just thank the Lord  no one walking past our house when that happened this morning……it could have been a lot worse than a crushed door….and I would be visiting DH in a cell right now!

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Medicating children

Posted on August 17, 2013 by Dubai Mum

I would never have thought I would see this day….I know this sounds like I am about to make an ultra important announcement…..not really, but it is an interesting one.

‘Oooh, that was nice’.

DS’ response to me inserting a suppository to work on his 39 degree fever……….??????!!!!!!! (To minimise potential embarrassment I am not going to identify which son),

I prefer suppositories as they work quicker and cannot be vomited up during illness (which has happened soooo often after I have administered calpol or the like, leaving me wondering if another 5 ml would amount to an overdose!).

All I could think about was the ordeal it has been for almost 3 years for both DS and me of ‘shoving one up’ as DH so delicately puts.   Once he became aware of what was happening, he would clench those little cheeks and make his entire body go rigid.  His alternative defence tactic was the octopus manoeuvre where he would kick and flail about so much leaving me helplessly trying to hit a moving bullsye!   It came to a point that DH had to pin his arms and legs down whilst I did the deed……and the look of betrayal on his red, tear stained face was heartbreaking.

I really never thought I would see the day he would enjoy the suppository experience in much the same way most kids slurp the strawberry flavour of calpol!

Yay!  At least from here on out medicine administration will be easier…….

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Summer vaycay

Posted on August 14, 2013 by Dubai Mum

After Christmas it is difficult to ignore the  march towards the inevitable annual summer desert temperatures. As we turn the corner into the new year, thoughts are reluctantly directed to counting down the days to when being cooped up indoors becomes the norm.  Instead of children’s sad, little faces pressed up against rain pelted windows wondering when it will stop and they can play in the garden, we have confused, flat, little faces wondering why they cannot go outside to play in what looks like glorious sunshine bursting with precious vitamin D…..

And so the relentless question of ‘how many more days until we go to nana’s and grandad’s?’ begins.  I think the munchkins have a pre-planned rota for this question……it is asked on an annoyingly accurately timed loop……of at least 2 minute intervals.

As this time approaches, we sandpit occupiers we tend to focus on what we miss from our own countries.  For example:

– Family and friends
– Fresh, non dusty air
– Long, bright summer evenings
– Home made brown bread
– Lush green parks
– Nights out with best friends
– Mr Whippy 99 ice cream cones
– Walks by the beach
– The kids bonding with cousins and friends’ kids
– Food selection in the grocery stores
– Visits to historical sites
– Rain…..yes, I said the ‘very wet precipitation’ word…..

It always amazes me how quickly summer rolls round.  Before we know it we find ourselves at Abu Dhabi’s departure lounge, wondering if we will be taking the Manchester City decorated plane to the Emerald Isle.

Land.  Greet family and friends.  Enjoy outdoors.  Enjoy the good weather.  Enjoy the ice creams.  Enjoy the beach.  Enjoy the freedom. Enjoy the tap water.  Enjoy the ‘normal’ prices.  Before long I get to thinking about Dubai and what I miss….

– Air Conditioning (AC)
– AC in the car
– People who pump petrol in your car  (I was confused when a driving friend of mine disappeared from the car to pump her own petrol and then walk to the petrol station shop to pay….)
– Have I mentioned AC?
– My helper (although my folks might think they replaced the ‘help’!) cleaning up after the kids (and me!)
– Cooled cooler water that does not cost the same amount as a beer in Dubai
– My 4×4 (with AC)
– 12 lane highways (only because they would have averted DS1’s  travel sickness on the windy, bumpy roads to one of the historical sites referred to above!)
– An outdoor swimming pool within 2 minutes walking distance
– Our own beds
We really have the best of both worlds!

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A pariah

Posted on July 15, 2013 by Dubai Mum

A pariah in the office; that’s what I was.

After the news leaked about my extremely offensive behaviour, it was as if I had been banished to the ‘untouchable’ class.  I would have thought one would need to have committed a monumentally serious offence to sink to such depths of disdain, for example, slurring the company on Facebook, informing clients that there are much better firms than ours out there, telling the CEO to volunteer for medical trials which involve testing if it is possible to grow a brain from scratch to fill the glaringly obvious empty space in his skull, just like scientists can ‘grow’ ears; you know….that kind of thing.

Alas…..it seems not having watched the classic, award winning movie, ‘Braveheart’ is reason enough to be tarred in this way.

For a celt (especially for a celt), it would seem the fact that in (or anytime since for that matter) I did/have not scheduled 3 hours out of my busy life to watch a film about another bunch of celts fighting against the English borders on heresy!

When this came up in chat with a Scottish colleague, I was sure I could use the ‘I haven’t watched a movie which wasn’t PG rated since 2005’  excuse.  But the minor glitch in that excuse was that ‘Braveheart’ previewed a decade earlier than that…..at a point in time when I hadn’t even met my DH……My insistence that I abhor any kind of violence, even glossy Hollywood violence, did not ‘get me out of jail’.  My only other excuse was that, at the time, I lived in Germany……’Braveheart’ in German would surely lose something in translation???!!!

Nope.  Still a ‘pariah’… and even worse, considered a traitor by some.

Last week my incensed Scottish colleague greased my palm with a DVD of ‘Braveheart’.  No words were needed.  The disappointment in her eyes said it all.  Even my Texan office mate shook his head in a devastatingly disappointed way that only experienced Mums know how to inflict.  I had better pay attention.  My office roomie knows ‘Braveheart’ speeches off by heart……Even his William Wallace accent trumps my attempt at Scottish……and indeed those of some of the ‘Braveheart’ actors!

Needless to say, I reserved TV/DVD time on Thursday evening for my ‘Braveheart’ premiere.  I was not particularly happy at having to extend my bedtime by 1 hour, but I just knew I could no longer endure ‘Braveheart’ ignominy.

At the 10 minute mark I was sobbing my heart out.  I texted my Scottish colleague to thank her for ruining my weekend and smudging my make-up…..this is exactly why I haven’t watched the film until now: blood + gore + sorrowful traditional celtic music makes me weep like a baby who has not been fed/slept/pooped for a week.  Hell! Who am I kidding?  Traditional celtic music alone is enough to make me weep.

Despite my questions regarding historical accuracy, I still passed the post-movie interrogation and my status at the office has now been restored to ‘that’ll do’!

 

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