Rosie Scribble

Never trust a child with a V.I.P pass

I’m not sure it’s the ‘done thing’ to arrive at school with the letters V.I.P written in black ink on the back of both hands. Yet IJ has done exactly that this morning.

When I noticed this walking out of the door she reassured me there was no cause for alarm. The letters simply stand for Very Important Person. I feared they might.

I am pointing the finger of blame here at the Guinness World record team. During our recent trip to their Headquarters in London, IJ was given a V.I.P pass with her name on. She thought it was absolutely fabulous and has been wearing it with pride after I made the mistake of telling her what the letters V.I.P actually stand for.

I fear this have gone to her head somewhat. This morning she reminded me that she is a very important person and I added that so are all her friends.

“I still don’t really think it’s appropriate to have V.I.P written on your hands,” I told her.

It turns out that she has left her all-important V.I.P pass in her tray at school, so the writing-on-the-back-of-the-hands trick is simply there to remind her to bring it home.

“I’m worried someone will try to steal it and start wearing it,” she explained. “Like my teacher.”

So she has gone off to school happy in the knowledge that she will be bringing her V.I.P pass home and no-one will be able to use it for devious purposes.

But hang-on ….

I’ve now noticed that there’s a magazine lying open on her bed with a photo of JLS in concert. Surrounding the stage there are people wearing backstage passes. I have a feeling her urgency to get hold of her V.I.P pass has less to do with her teacher wearing it and more to do with her belief it will give her access to concert venues.

I’m wondering now if Guinness World Records can spare one for me … 

Photo credit.

Living the dream

It has been said before – somewhere, possibly – that drive, determination and a lot of imagination can really take you places.

It has also been said that looks are not everything.

Yet today, having spent a blissful afternoon sitting as a journalist *ahem* on the judging panel of Britain’s Next Top (Male) Model, attempting to select a shortlist for next year’s televised series, it felt that for once – possibly a bit longer – that looks were indeed everything.

There was appreciation all round and more than a little frustration, on my part at least, that an embargo on publishing any material in relation to the event is being strictly enforced.

Shame.

As I was driven back home this evening it also occurred to me that producing any coverage of the event on this blog would prove difficult.

Difficult because in the 'real' world, outside of my imagination, I have been snowed in all day with only myself for company and a slightly bored seven-year-old child. Under the circumstances it is easy to let the mind wander.

In fact, sometimes it is essential.

Hope you are coping with the Big Freeze!

Photo credit

The Toy Story 3 effect

Communication between myself and IJ is very time-consuming at the moment. We appear to have reached the 'communicating by paper aeroplanes' stage. I wasn't aware this stage existed, but experience has now told me it does.

It involves me asking a very straight-forward question and IJ disappearing upstairs to write her answer on a paper aeroplane, which she then flies down to me. This is a little frustrating at times, especially if I have simply asked her if she would like a drink.

It is also quite sweet, or at least it would be if she wasn't sneaking into my office, taking paper out of the printer and then leaving a trail of it across the floor.

Above she is saying: I need help and fast. I need some shoes and I can't decide which ones I can wear, which she sent when I asked her why she was taking so long to get ready.

All this has come about since watching Toy Story 3: she is now on some sort of 'Buzz Lightyear-themed intergalactic mission', whatever that means, which requires half of her toys being carried  a round with her at all times, and her dressing as a cow girl.

I have no idea what this has to do with paper aeroplanes but apparently a special form of communication is needed when on such missions. Normal talking just does not take place.

That's all absolutely fine of course. It's good to see her using her imagination and playing with some old toys again.

Although I think I need to introduce her to the world of full-stops.

The Gallery: A novel idea

This week's Gallery theme,  A Novel Idea, has seen us trekking through forest and woodland in search of something very rare and very very special.

We have been looking very carefully at trees and looking for one tree in particular.

Not this one.

Definitely none of these.

Thankfully, we found it hidden out of sight and away from prying eyes.

We found Edin Blyton's The Faraway Tree.

This is not just any old tree. Little characters called Moon-face and the Saucepan Man live inside this tree.

Little fairies who come out at night have told me this. And fairies never lie.

A post-Cybermummy pick-me-up

The day after Cybermummy, it struck me that I may never write another blog post. Breaking up the journey home in Green Park (and determined to stay there after forking out £1.50 for a deckchair) it occurred to me that I had very little to say.

After meeting so many wonderful women (and Tim) – so many talented and inspiring writers – I felt a little overwhelmed and a little in awe. I questioned whether the monotony of my daily life, away from the excitement and buzz of the weekend, would be enough to fill this blog. And I was also craving cupcakes.

One day on, the messy house, the practically bare cupboards and the unwashed school uniform would have made a dull and uninteresting post. It crossed my mind to pick a fight with the neighbours to create some much needed ‘blog fodder’ but common sense prevailed, plus the fact they have two dogs.

Then, uncertain I would ever find anything to write about, and frustrated to have been marched to the supermarket by the little girl who hates food shopping, I found the solution to my malaise; the solution to all life’s dilemmas in fact. It was there sitting on a Sainsbury’s shelf and had been waiting for me all this time. It was worthy of an embrace.

So scrap the rest of this post. This is the key content here: emergency chocolate. 

And it is perfect.

I am calling it Marco.