UNBELIEVABLE!
Just when you thought it was safe to check out the washing instructions…
We were on holiday earlier this year in Cyprus and decided to do a spot of holiday washing. When we checked the washing machine manual it showed this…
Read the first line of notes.
Always read the instructions
Just what are they expecting? In fact, no, I don’t wanna know…
GRIM!
“The youngsters of today”.
Oh what a terrible bunch.
“We were never like that when we were young”.
I am forever seeing emails, posts and memories of a rose-tinted past of when older generations lived an idyllic life. But – hang on a minute. I think some people have got it all wrong. Are the older generations right when they criticise the young people today? Read some of the comments below and take a minute to really think about them.
“The younger generation are so violent – It’s all because of the violent computer games”.
Which generation was it that started two World Wars?
“The younger generation have no family values”.
Which generation shipped off women to have their babies then forced them to return home in shame and never speak of their children, who they would never see again.
“The younger generation are always texting and using their phones – Facebooking and Tweeting…”
Which generation effectively Facebooked and Tweeted across their garden fences when entire communities lived in the same village or town. The world is more mobile now but the gossip is just as connected now as ever.
“The younger generation have no respect”.
Which generation showed little respect to other cultures (creating Empires, claiming nations, having slaves, banning mixed race marriages), or homosexuals (banning same-sex marriage)? Which generation created more divides between social and ethnic groups?
“The young are not educated”.
Which generation felt the need to only educate the men and knew that a woman’s place was at home?
If the older generation are proud then so be it, but I am glad to be from the younger, progressive, more open, less high-and-mighty generation where people can be more free with their lives. People can marry who they wish without having to live in shame or run the risk of being disowned by their families and friends.
The world is far from perfect – but surely it is improving – human rights continue to improve.
I would rather live in 2012 (which the older generation criticise so often) than the repressed 1940s.
I thought it would be a good idea to summarise my months throughout 2012. It is set to be a cracker of a year (a great year, to all my non-English readers, or should I say readers from outside of northern England).
January started most dramatically. Bas, my husband-to-be (I love saying that), and I travelled back to The Netherlands after enjoying Christmas in the UK. The drive from England to the Channel Tunnel was horrendous. When I say horrendous I mean utterly vile. Scary. At-my-wits-end-scary. I thought my life would end at some point on that journey. The rain was torrential and never-ending. Once through the Channel Tunnel (and after a welcome 30-minute break on the train), we continued our hell-raising journey into France where the bloody rain continued. How could so much water fall from the sky? Belgium proved to be no better – The rain poured from the sky and our car barely managed to stay on the road. Driving through a swimming pool is never recommended and as the car shook, swerved and vibrated its way along, the thought went through my head on more than one occasion that skis may have been a better option than wheels. I lived to tell the tale though, so all’s well that ends well.
It was so much worse than this...
January also brings with it the worst time of year, the post-Christmas-blues. Apartments and houses look so bland and bare without the joyful Christmas decorations. Is it just me, or am I the only one who never ceases to be shocked at how bare a home can look without the decorations hanging? It never seems that bare in November…
I was back at work, greeted by a class full of happy little three-year olds all eager to see their friends again – and their teacher, of course. One little boy saw me on the first morning back and said my name with such enthusiasm. It was as though he’d not seen me for months, years – or as though he thought he may never have seen me again…. Bless.
In order to brighten the mood, we had friends over for a games evening. I love games. Bas does not. Therefore, we played games. And Bas loved them. I won’t hear a word against them. That is the basis of our relationship. I am right. 
We played some great games – word games where one team had to name 10 things related to a category. The highlight of the night being when my team was asked to name 10 deserts… We looked puzzled and skipped the category. I don’t know deserts other than Gobi, Sahara… I’m struggling. We asked to hear the answers – clearly out of interest. Answer #1: Pavlova. I have to hold my hand up and admit that after a few glasses of wine I sat and pondered where this Pavlova desert may be. Possible Eastern Europe…? The penny did not take long to drop. DESSERTS! My wonderful other-half avoided reading the next answer – trifle. We would have been laughing into the early hours. I love games.
A fab game. You must play it.
Throughout the rest of January, we visited family in The Netherlands, caught up with friends, helped our wonderful friend-and-bride-to-be choose her wedding dress. Yay! We had a decorator in to plaster the kitchen (our kitchen shall be finished this year – finally); we watched Carnage and The Iron Lady (Streep must win Best Actress at the Oscars) at the cinema; and we had meals out. Good fun all round.
Oh, but then there was the party Sunday. The Sunday we shall not forget. It started with a neighbourhood borrel (drinks and nibbles) at the pub along the street from our apartment. All our Dutch neighbours were there – although we didn’t recognise a soul. Normally I know one or two – but the absence of everyone from our actual street made the stress-levels rise. I was using all my Dutch skills. Speak Dutch and survive. I survived – almost. We were labelled on entry with a post-it note from the very official looking ‘organiser’, power-dressed in red. After spelling my name repeatedly (in Dutch), I changed from Jamey to Jami to Jame where I finally gave in. I’d be Jame for the evening – for the quiet life. Jamie isn’t difficult to spell. What panicked me next was seeing the organisers hand out coloured flower stickers. There was a game to be played. Panic stations. I know, I know – I like games. But not in Dutch and not when I know that my Dutch partner is clearly not going to be in my team. We ended up separated. I must not panic. I must keep calm. Drink. Hours later, and after meeting some lovely neighbours we made our way, on bikes, to another party. You can see where this is going. We drank. We chatted. We drank and had a fantastic evening – until home time. That was when the wall of reality hit. Cycling home was an experience.
Oh – and January officially became my busiest month for hits on WordPress. Thanks guys!
What a month. January – you have been memorable.
Bring it on February!
2012…. How did that creep up on us all so quickly?
I am still recovering from the shock that Christmas arrived and went by in a flash. I’ve almost finished my Christmas chocolates. How many days has it been since that lovely day with the family? More to the point – How many days are there until next Christmas?
I’d better get my Christmas list ready…. (just kidding)
I’ve not been blogging very much recently. I have lots of excuses (all good ones). Here are a few:
But – Fear not! I am back and aim to keep you all entertained with fresh and funny little treasures over the next few months.
Keep you eyes peeled – I’ll be making you all smile soon.
J x
What a fab five days I’ve just had!!!
My mum was over from England to stay with me in The Netherlands. I love having visitors – and a Mum visit is one of the best!
We’ve done so much in those five days: a canal trip through The Hague, meals out, a cinema trip, an IKEA visit (and yes we DID have meatballs), shopping in Leiden, shopping in The Hague and more meals…
The only problem with people coming to stay is that you have to say goodbye. Airport goodbyes are so sad!
Bye Mum! Come back soon.
My mum and me
I was in The Hague (Den Haag) just the other afternoon. I popped in to do a little bit of shopping. Being an Englishman submerged in The Netherlands I am surrounded by Dutch speakers: It means that my ears pick out English at fifty paces. I happened to pass an English family (they sounded like they were from EastEnders, the east end of London).
The mum was standing with her partner and two sons (aged 10 and 7ish). This is what I heard her saying to her youngest son.
“You remember Grandad’s friend?………….. DEAD!………… Yeah, he got trapped under a tram”.
I can only assume that the boy had been a little too close to a tram moments before. This was his mum’s attempt at warning him of the dangers. A slight over-reaction I’d say. The poor boy looked terrified at the thought of ending up like ‘Grandad’s friend’.
What was she thinking!
For anyone out there who has not yet hosted or been to a Eurovision Song Contest party – 2011 is the year. It is a must in everyone’s calendar. You do not need to love the contest, or the music or the voting – but a party to remember the night by will be more fun than you’d initially imagine.
Here is my list of essentials to make your party go with a swing:
The infamous scoreboard. We included all guests with a country but also left a space for a phone vote. There is nothing more entertaining than calling someone (another party, a friend, or as we did, my mum) to get their votes. True-Eurovision style). Put them on loud-speaker for extra effect!
Crazy guests willing to dress up and brings flags. Flags are a must!
A trophy for the winner. (Blue Peter would be proud). 
Food to represent the countries particpating in the contest. Ideas here.
Some great tips for making flags from food of that nation.
Dance moves… There’s nothing better than dressing just like the performer of that year.
Recreating Spain's entry in 2008 (Rodolfo Chikilicuatre)
None other than Ukraine's Verka Serduchka, the 2007 entrant.
Scoresheets (and guests who are really putting the effort into it).
A good imagination is always needed. Look at these countries. Can you guess which country they represent?
A tricky one. This is Oliver. He's hungry... Get it? Hungary. (sigh)
Very clever. Crow. Asia.......Croatia.
An easy one but fab. FIN-land.
I would love to have a Eurovision party this year. But….. I’m going to the real thing! Look out for me in the crowd of 24,000 people!! Enjoy the show.
Tea – there’s nothing like a nice cup of tea. The mere mention of the word will have made all the English readers sit bolt upright. Perhaps some of you saw the title, dashed to the kitchen, popped the kettle on and returned with a freshly made ‘brew’ ready to read on…. I hope so. This should be good.
"Oh, that's just made everything in the world seem better".
A nice cup of tea is a powerful thing. It is the solution to all problems – or so the English believe. In the book ‘Watching the English: The Hidden Rules of English Behaviour’ Kate Fox paints the perfect picture of typically English families in their typical English households with their insane belief that tea can do mighty things. Being English myself, I have to admit that tea-drinking plays a major part in social occasions – yes, even more so than wine or dare I say it –beer.
Fox explains ‘the universal rule (certainly for the English is…): when in doubt, put the kettle on. Visitors arrive; the English have the usual difficulties with greetings and say ‘I’ll just put the kettle on’. When the conversation runs dry and there’s nothing more to say about the weather, the English say ‘Now, who’d like more tea? I’ll just put the kettle on’. After a bad accident – people are injured and in shock: tea is needed. ‘I’ll put the kettle on’. World War Three breaks out – a nuclear attack is imminent. ‘I’ll put the kettle on’.
You see – tea has wonderful magic powers that can cure people, revive people, calm them down and give them the well-needed ‘get up and go’. It is so very true of life in England that we (the English) do say many of the things above. My mum loves a nice cup of tea. The ritual must be followed – milk in first then the tea (after it has been prepared in the teapot). Apologies to the readers who are shocked by the ‘milk in first’ comment – you are probably thinking ‘no, but it is surely milk in last’. I have heard an debate on this matter (honest – some people care that much about it.
So, who’s up for a lovely cup of tea then? I’m just putting the kettle on now…
You may also enjoy reading this:
Why, why, why. This poor kid. Whoever he is – wherever he is - I am sure life has been hell so far. His parents clearly thought that the name would be fun for him. OK, I admit it’s better than other possible names to match his surname, Knight.
I have heard of other names that people have which are not amongst the greatest in the world. I am glad that my name is ‘normal’.
I once knew a psychologist called Michael Hunt (Mike for short). Mike Hunt – possibly one of the most unenviable names on the planet. (If you haven’t understood why……then oh dear, I don’t think I can explain). I discovered only 5 minutes ago that there is another Mike Hunt in the world, see here. Bless him too.
To English readers, I once heard of a person being interviewed on the radio called Emma Dale. Rather unfortunate. She was born before the TV soap had started…… But, all the same, it was not so funny when she was constantly sang to by people giving their rendition of the soap’s theme tune…….
Anyone have any other funny names?
Two Million Gods The Laughing Housewife Terri’s Little Corner Sarsm’s Blog The Single Cell The Life Of Jamie
