Birthday Musings: Part 3. Happy Birthday

Surprise.....No Peeking.
Happy Birthday!

Hooray...it's birthday time! Four whole years since this bundle of joy was delivered into my arms and I got the surprise of my life...a very long 9lb 11 oz baby with a massive shock of black hair, which made him look like my late Auntie Ronnie from Wales.

One thing I love about birthdays is creating little traditions that when they grow up my children will say things like... "Do you remember mum's breakfast muffins...they weren't great, but we'd still eat them till we felt sick".

or

"Do you remember the way Dad used to make us a card rather than buy one - ha ha, that was Mum's doing as well, poor old Dad"

Mum & Dad eh? At the moment we're still Mummy and Daddy and I know it won't be long until we all grow up together. I will treasure these moments forever.

Anyway, it's 7.00 in the morning and I've just made some muffins for the occasion, a yummy birthday breakfast for the special birthday boy.


Yes, I know the plate doesn't look full...I've already delved into a couple, as they are delicious...made from fresh blueberries and some of my home-made yoghurt. That might make me sound like a domestic goddess, but trust me I'm not.

For example, I haven't dared make the birthday cake because he wanted a fancy one in the shape of a car. I can try my hands at most things but mechanical cake engineering isn't one of them. Oh yes, I really know when I'm beaten.

Instead, I have relied on Mr Sainsbury and Mr Tesco to go head-to-head with a pair of racing car cakes, one for little T's nursery and one for the party.

Despite my flurry of neurosis on Monday, I am now rather calm about the party, mainly because it's going to be in a kids' painting cafe in town.

However, I think I'm still in denial about the inevitable party bags and and my overworked brain is just wondering whether I can get away with it. So far, the kids will have the ceramic thingamajig that they'll paint at the cafe as well as a piece of cake and a little camper van.

Surely that's enough isn't it?

Will they be disappointed?

Will the parents think I'm tight or will they be grateful?

Ohhh...What if we had no party bag at all!

Could I break with tradition and risk all those kids in tears as they leave with just a piece of cake?

Apparently in "my day" we used to take some chocolate as a birthday gift and come home with just a piece of cake... and there were very few complaints.

But I don't think I'm that mean or so brave.

So it looks like I'll be bunging in some chocolate too.

Ah...at least there will be no unrecyclable packaging.

Anyway, what am I doing still hanging about on the blog...I've got the Junior Saboteur's birthday to celebrate with some muffins, a few presents and a sing song.

Just close your ears when we sing Happy Birthday as we're not a very tuneful family. Cats wailing and jackdaws crowing is the sound that comes to mind.

In the meantime, if you're missing the regular talk of bins or trashcans...don't fret...look what I've discovered on You Tube.



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Birthday Musings: Part 2. The Declutter

Stop...Stop!

Please don't phone the police!

It's not burglars!

Honestly...it's not!

It's simply the work of a three year old boy and his 39 year old accomplice, who really should know better!

You'd think I'd learn by now wouldn't you...

Never to do...the annual pre-birthday declutter...........on my own!

...especially when the King of Decuttler and strategist extraordinaire is out-of-reach and far far away on a three day residential course in Buckinghamshire.

Let's face it...he is the expert in messy bedrooms. I, on the other hand, am crap!

I really don't have the head for it!

Never have!

But I was a desperate woman, preparing for another exciting birthday in the life of the Junior Waste Saboteur and embarking on Mission Impossible, which was to create space for some new presents to land. So it was time to sort out the toys and rearrange the furniture. The only other time this happens with such conviction is Christmas!

However, the flaw in this plan is that whenever I move around the furniture, I reveal the beastie that lurks in the bedroom. I know it's there, but if I don't look it will go unnoticed...and therefore it will cause me no distress.

But when I go hunting, I need to have my wits about me and make sure I am sufficiently armed to tackle the real nightmare that hides under the bed and in the shadows of the bedroom. If you're a parent who also struggles against chaos, you'll understand what I mean.

It looks like this.

ARGHH!

To the uninitiated it appears pretty harmless.

But the truth is that it's an unexploded bomb awaiting disposal, a casualty bay of things missing in action and a collection of wasted opportunities.

With a background in library management, you'd think I'd be good at sorting and putting things in their place.

Well if it's got a Dewey number on it and is part of an age-old classification system then I am. However, the problem is that the broad categories of broken limbs, random jigsaw pieces and unidentified plastic objects are enough to send me running to the hills with my finger in my ears singing la, la, la, avoiding the truth of the matter and the inevitability of landfill.

But at least I can deal with things that look like this...


Yes, I know I chose carefully, but aside from the fact that it's a much loved bin lorry, the other thing I like is that it comes in just four easy bits, which once put together can be handled as a specific toy with a real purpose.

It's not that I dislike things like jigsaws. They're great and give the brain muscles a good flexing, but you can get too much flex when the odd piece goes astray.

Then there's Playmobil! Why did I buy that farm set off eBay, with all those fiddly bits, when my eldest boy was just three? Talk about peaking too soon!

Life would be easy if it was just Books, Lego, Cars, Trains and Kid K'Nex.

I'd know where to put them.

But I suppose it would be boring for a boy who soaks up learning through play, like a sponge with water. However, to his credit, his imagination knows no bounds and he can do all sorts with a cardboard box and a sweeping brush!

The great news is my mission to declutter was successful and that I've collected a few odds and ends to pass on to good homes, like little T's nursery and the fair-trade cafe in Bury St Edmunds.



But we've also said a sad goodbye to a bag-load of cuddlies, who have gone to a really good abode through Freecycle.




Anyway the surprise for everyone, including Mr A who gets home today, is that this woman on a mission finally pulled through and within a couple of hours of blood, sweat and tears, managed this miracle...



Oh, how I wish there was a course in the Management of Stuff. Having had kids, it'd be of much more use than a masters degree in Library and Information Management.

But at least, with the room now in a state of managed control, I can breathe easy, which is great news because the party is tomorrow.

Yey, time to celebrate.... in more ways than one... before I move onto the next area of the house...the kitchen!

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Birthday Musings: Part 1 Neurosis sets in

It's that time of year again, when it should be an occasion to relax, wear a big smile and celebrate.

One year older, with another 52 weeks of memories to look back on...reminiscing about the wonderful times and they have been great.

So why am I feeling tense?

It's not as though it's my birthday.

No, mine's not due for another couple of weeks and this year it will be the big 4.0. Yes you read that correctly...FORTY YEARS OLD!

But strangely I'm feeling more neurotic about the birthday of the Junior Saboteur, who will be turning just a tenth of my age on Wednesday.

Yes, little T will be celebrating with four little candles on his cake.

The party's booked and he's invited his little friends to paint ceramic cars at a kids' cafe in town. It's the first time he's had a party "off-site" so to speak. I normally enjoy organising birthday parties at home, but this year he wanted to celebrate his special occasion elsewhere. And I'm not going to say no to cappuccinos on tap for two hours and people on hand to help.

So last week, we made the invitations and handed them out...to nine children...

...and yep, that's when the neurosis set in!

Well I suppose I really was laying my reputation on the line for all to ponder...

I've thought about it before, but it wasn't until last week did I feel brave enough to dare say it..

...brave enough to utter the five little words that on the surface seem so simple...

BUT...

which have the power to make you stand out from the crowd and stick out like a sore thumb in the modern age that is the 21st Century!

Yes five simple, well meant words...that go something like...

"Please don't worry about presents"

There, I've said it!

That felt so much easier than when the words stumbled out of my mouth whilst handing out the first three invitations.

Lovely as my friends are, when I uttered those words and witnessed the double-take I did feel somewhat like an alien who had landed from outer space or like a lunatic that had escaped the asylum.

I guess, it is pretty unheard of...a birthday party with no presents.

How could a mother be so cruel?

How could a four year old understand?

The truth is that I don't feel cruel at all. Little T has got loads of toys to play with, whether they're his own things, his brother's hand-me-downs or odd bits of pap that he's collected from fairs and comics in years gone by. His bedroom is already too small to cope with it all.

But could he really understand if friends didn't give him any presents? I suppose I've never made a big thing of taking him shopping to buy a present for a friend's birthday party. It's always been easier to go off and get it myself, so the gift thing has pretty much gone under his radar.

As ever, this birthday he's going to have lots of presents sent in the post by relatives that live far away, from aunts and uncles who see him infrequently but who want to still play a part in his life with gifts on special occasions. There'll also be a present from his brother, for them both to share, and being his loving parents we've got a little surprise for him too.

That already seems like a lot of things to keep a little boy amused. So I don't think he'll feel underwhelmed. In fact, I'd hope that he'd feel happier that his old mum's sanity was kept in order.

But is this sufficient justification to break away from the modern tradition of guests bearing gifts at parties?

It feels like tough love, trying to move away from consumerist patterns of owning lots of things that clutter up the house and eventually get worn out or broken and discarded off to landfill.

And then there's the perspective of the guests, or rather their parents, who want to teach their children to be kind and how to celebrate special occasions. After all, society almost expects gifts to be offered at events such as birthday parties whether it's out of kindness, appreciation or duty.

Take that option away from someone and it can look like a personal affront, with a big slap of ingratitude.

Which of course it isn't.

If you take a step back and think about it logically, it all seems sensible...well it does to me. It's 2008. We're right in the middle of a credit crunch, with soaring oil prices, higher food costs and more expensive mortgages. What better opportunity is there to break the cycle of copious amounts of stuff.

I'm already feeling like an unnatural radical by suggesting cutting back on presents for my children, but maybe it is time for parents to stand together and all agree to cut the crap, throwing caution to the wind along with the guilt.

Wow...my mother would hardly recognise me...blimey, am I really a recovered shopaholic? Is it my age I wonder?

All this and I haven't even mentioned the "Party Bag Crisis" yet! Ah well...that's another day!

In the meantime, I'll leave you with with some more STUFF AND NONSENSE (quite literally) soon to be published in my monthly column for our local magazine. I told you my reputation was on the line...perhaps I should be heading for my blue rinse now.

STUFF AND NONSENSE.

Whether you’re young or old,
love it or hate it,
have little or lots,
one thing’s for sure we’ve all got some.

STUFF!
And it’s everywhere!

All around the house and in every room.

Nowhere’s safe,
especially the garage.

There’s even stuff in the loo!

There’s stuff that has a home,
stuff that should be somewhere else
and stuff that belongs nowhere at all.

There’s his stuff, there’s mine.
There’s new stuff and old.

We flash the new stuff and hide the old
– in the loft, the tip and the charity shops.

TOO MUCH STUFF!
And it’s multiplying,

You have kids and it breeds.
2.4 children and a mountain of stuff.

There are even days to celebrate it.
“Happy birthday” and “Merry Christmas” we say,
as we hand over the stuff!

SO MUCH STUFF!
Oh the memories,
ah the decades gone by.

Some of mine is 40 years old.
I hope I’ve got another 40 to go.

BUT THAT’S MEANS MORE STUFF

Will I need a bigger house?
Just for the stuff?
Will a bigger house have cupboards?
Could I use the garage as a garage?
Could we just pile it all into a spare room?

I haven’t used half of it.
There are gifts,
freebies
and bargains.

There’s cheap stuff that’s broken
and old stuff that’s gone out of fashion.

OH DEAR IT’S ALL PILING ON TOP OF ME.
I feel like I’m being buried alive.
I can see my epitaph now...


“She was a happy soul, but the stuff and nonsense got her in the end”

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Something for the weekend

If you need more convincing about the benefits of Zero Waste and why it's worth slimming your bin, then pull up a chair, grab a coffee and delight yourselves with...

One Empty Bin, 23 Brushes...and a Very Bendy Man!

Just think... slim that bin and there could be a whole new career ahead of you...and don't forget the financial gains. Just one gig a week and you'll have enough money to beat the credit crunch!

I know my bin is empty but I certainly won't be trying this at home. For one thing... I haven't got enough brushes.

Have a good weekend and Enjoy...

A Bury Happy Place to Live

Welcome to Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk, which is the home of my Almost Average Household. It's a gentrified town, full of history and vibrancy, where visitors from the North, South and East are welcomed by the beautiful sight of the cathedral tower, which was only added at the turn of this century.

The three buildings shown below are all located on the historic Angel Hill and include The Athenaeum, (which was designed by the famous architect Robert Adam), the Abbey Gate, (which was burnt down in 1327 and then rebuilt by the townspeople) and The Angel Hotel, (which was regularly frequented by Charles Dickens).

So what's with the tour?

Well I thought it would make a nice break from the usual talk of rubbish and thought it would be a great opportunity to put The Rubbish Diet into context. So far, the only thing I've revealed about our wonderful medieval town is how great the council is at recycling. But there's so much more to the place than St Edmundsbury Borough Council's wheelie bins and the Household Waste Recycling Centre.

As it was market day yesterday, I took some photos on my travels, to give a pictorial account of a fairly typical shopping day in the life of Almost Mrs Average.

I know I am such a lucky girl to have all this on my doorstep. Maybe this is the reason I am always happy. It would be hard not to smile when surrounded by such beautiful buildings on such a sunny summer's day.

Above is the gorgeous building which plays host to the stationers WH Smith, which I use for greetings cards. Of course, I always choose cards that don't come with plastic wrappers and this is one of the rare stores that have such a range.

The photo to the right is of the Bury St Edmunds Art Gallery, another building designed by Adam, which I try and frequent as much as possible when time permits. It provides space and inspiration for bursts of creativity when needed and it's the place where I often bump into the fabulous artists of Rojo Art, who make some beautiful things from junk.

Here are some photos of our award winning market, which comes to Bury St Edmunds on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Some days there are around 10 fruit and vegetables stalls offering a really wide choice, from your bargain "£1 a basket" through to more expensive goods.

My favourite is John Webber's stall, where you are guaranteed very friendly service with a really warm welcome. Jenny who you see below is always a breath of fresh air even on a cold rainy day.

While wandering around the market, it is noticeable that many of the customers are of the older generation, partly because of the weekly coach trips that come in from far and wide. And as you can see amongst the older folk, there's a fairly good mix of those who bring their own shopping bags and those who don't.

"Say Cheese", to our local cheesemongers, which is always a popular stall. Even so, it only took about 5 minutes of waiting patiently to get served.

I love these two stalls below, picking up some fresh bread from one and local sausages and eggs from the other. To the right, you can see the new Abbeygate Gates, the latest "Marmite topic" to be featured in the Bury Free Press, our weekly paper. The local townsfolk are often split over stuff like this, either loving or hating them and never the twain shall meet.

So having bought a load of apples, bananas, tomatoes, carrots, satsumas, strawberries, carrots, peppers, cucumbers, grapes, grapefruit, spring-onions, cheese, bread, sausages and eggs, you might wonder how I could possibly get it all home.

In my beloved trolley of course, full to the brim as ever and it's what a girl needs to tackle a market shop. I used to push a metal trolley around the supermarket. I now regularly pull my gorgeous handbag-on-wheels around the open-air market. How things change eh!

And the best bit! The contents in my gorgeous trolley came to just £23. Much cheaper than the supermarket and with no excess packaging apart from the small plastic bag for the sausages.

So to celebrate, I couldn't resist the opportunity to drag it along to a regular haunt to treat myself to some cake!



Yes, it's a big piece of cake I know...

But remember...it's the bin that's on the diet and not me!

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Further info:

• More photos of Bury St Edmunds can be found at the Suffolk Cam website.
• Visit the Tourist Information site for the full lowdown on Bury St Edmunds.
  
• Stories about life in the town can be found in the local paper the Bury Free Press.
• My favourite (and less serious) take on life around town can be witnessed at the Living in Bury St Edmunds blog, written by my wonderful friend Ruby.
• Bury St Edmunds is also home to the Greene King brewery. A visit to this area just has to include a tour of the brewery.
  

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No Sex Please, We're British

I know I'm turning into a girl with a one track mind, (not to be confused with THE girl of course), so for a change, I thought I'd break away from the subject of rubbish and focus on worms.

Last week I emptied out the "liquid gold" from the wormery and noticed that yet again, there were quite a number of the wiggly things in there, all dead.

Since I got the wormery in February, I must have emptied out almost as many as came with the can'o'worms.

Forever feeling remorseful for the number of dead worms that get scattered in my garden, I thought I should order some new ones to keep the spirit of the wormery alive and wriggling.

Yet, when I poked about in the crumbly rich compost, there were hundreds of the wriggly wiggly creatures. All looking very happy indeed.

I felt relieved, but how were there so many? Somehow, I couldn't stop my thoughts wandering in the direction of how worms breed.

I know it seems a bit rude to barge into their personal lives, but I thought I'd have a poke around with an old stick to try and find some evidence.

But there was nothing fruity going on in wormland. They were just all going about their everyday business, as little single worms do.

I am not surprised really. After all, what worm wants to meet his beloved for a date with some cold peas and rice under the watchful eye of their keeper? Let alone get it on after their romantic interlude.

So there was nothing for it but to ring up the experts, Wiggly Wigglers, and pose the question "How do worms breed?" They made it sound so easy.

Worms as you know are Hermaphrodites, which means that they all have male and female reproductive organs. They breed by sliding through each other's saddle, which is the thick part of the worm. An egg is formed and fertilised as it travels along the worm's body where eventually it drops off its nose. It then takes around 4-6 weeks for the little worms to emerge...

Awww...bless...!

Anyway, I think I've got that right. I know it's the simple version, but for someone like me who never even attempted O'level biology, this is just the right level.

So having dug deeper (excuse the pun) into the issue at hand, I think that's enough sex for me thank you. After all, I am British and will have to hide my blushes when I next visit the worms.

Yes from now on, I think I'll just stick to my rubbish, happy that the worms seem content enough to multiply.

Anyway if you're interested in finding out more about my adventures with worms and waste, I've written a guest post for the Wiggly Blog, which which will be published this week, so please wiggle over for a nosey.

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The Bin Monitor`

Have I ever properly introduced you to my eldest son?

hmmm.

Perhaps it's now time. After all, he deserves a proper introduction.

He's six years old and in three months time he'll be seven.

Thanks to his teacher as well as life in the Almost Average Household, he knows a thing or two about recycling.

And he certainly likes to do things properly...

...which is why he's become our self-appointed bin monitor, indeed our very own Jedi Knight of the waste stream.



The problem is he sees things as black or white and doesn't yet understand the grey bits in the middle.

And because of this he delights in nothing more than throwing around false allegations.

Like the day he told me I was bad at recycling!

Yes, that's right! My six year old darling has accused me of being terrible at recycling... Yes me...! Oh dear, I can see the headline in our local rag now....

Zero Waste Woman Branded Fake - own son dobs her in.

In my defence and to uphold my reputation he has thrown this accusation a few days AFTER the bin men had been and emptied our well-endowed recycling bin.



He peers in, sees it's empty and tells me I'm crap!

How to feel offended eh. After all my efforts!

So that the rumour doesn't get out of hand, I now show him the contents of our recycling bin BEFORE it gets collected.

But all I get now is:

"That's better mummy"

As if there was a problem in the first place.

Can you believe it! I'm being monitored by a six year old.

If that's not bad enough there was another scandal to hit the Almost Average Household this weekend.

Yep. This weekend I was on the receiving end of another one!

"Mummy, do you really want to kill more trees?"

I can see it now: Zero Waste Woman - Tree Murderer!

Where did this one come from?

Well this time... he'd only gone and peered in the compost bin.



Is nowhere safe? I've certainly got nothing to hide but if I were six, the last place I'd want to poke my nose would be in the compost.

But then, I'm not a member of the intergalactic bin police am I?

You see, as he was conducting his investigations, he'd discovered a combination of paper bags, some newspaper and an expired party invitation all mixed up with the fruit peelings.

Apparently, by diverting the paper products from the recycling waste stream I am now responsible for more trees having to be cut down...

OMG - I can't take this kind of responsibility. My shoulders aren't broad enough!

All I was doing was balancing the biological nature of my compost.

How selfish do I feel now? My compost versus the world's trees!

How I wish things were as simple as a six year old sees them.

However, he did get me thinking. Although he doesn't quite yet understand the balance of materials needed to make good compost, he did have a point about the paper products. I happily throw in all sorts of things included toilet roll tubes, paper bags, pieces of paper, newspaper, thin card etc, primarily diverting them from the recycling bin.

The compost bin probably doesn't need this amount of paper and he is right, I am diverting it away from being recycled into other products.

And I wonder how many others are doing the same.

Perhaps the only way to find out is to hire out my six year old monitor to the local council. He can go on an undercover mission, tell people off and report back accordingly.

I'm sure he'd be good at it.

He might even be able to help prevent possible riots over waste.

But I think I could put him to better use on the home-front.

Hmmm. Yes he could come in handy.

Instead of following me around, I need someone to keep a closer eye on his three year old brother, otherwise known as the junior saboteur, who loves nothing better than contaminating the recycling.

And then there's the King of Declutter, Mr A himself.

Aha...now that's where the Bin Monitor will be of most use. Mr A needs a shadow, especially when he's in the middle of one of his decluttering episodes.

So, perhaps my little Bin Monitor is a good thing after all.

One thing's for certain. He's got a future ahead of him and at this rate it has to be in waste.

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