Very relaxed. Excellent food. Log fires. Everyone welcome including dogs. Make sure you book though. Honestly, I’ve never had a more delicious roast beef – look at the size of that yorkshire pudding!  Walking distance from the park so you can work up a good appetite first!

and a lovely garden in the summer for BBQ’s and chilling:-

My friend Sally Phillips has actually written a Hollywood film that’s going to be out in a couple of weeks (March 13th to be precise). I had the privilege of being invited to preview it last week. Just a lovely endearing film set on the remote Scottish island of “Hegg” where nothing much usually happens. A proper Rom Com starring David Tennant and Kelly MacDonald. Also featuring Alice Eve, Michael Urie, Sally Phillips, Federico Castelluccio and Maureen Beattie.

When the wedding of US film star Lara Tyler to English writer James Arber is sabotaged by an obsessive paparazzo they decide to relocate their wedding to the one place in the world where the press won’t find them. However, it all inevitably goes wrong and a “decoy bride” is engineered to help detract from the proceedings. Sally developed the idea in order to create a female led romcom feature film looking at the widening gap between real women and “ideal” women. “Picking the Hebrides as a setting was probably initially just an excuse to go there. When I was researching I could only get as fare as Bute because I was too pregnant to fly and too nauseous to take the ferry. I read lots of guidebooks and novels and watched a lot of Puffins nesting on webcams.

I’m going to be able to give some DVD’s away and maybe even some signed stuff from Sally so watch this space.

If you are looking for somewhere lovely near Richmond Park for lunch – especially on a Sunday then try The Victoria Gastropub in East Sheen. Delicious. Very relaxed. Everyone welcome including dogs. Make sure you book though. Honestly, I’ve never had a more delicious roast beef – look at the size of that yorkshire pudding!  Walking distance from the park so you can work up a good appetite first!

My soon-to-be-travelling-to-the-end-of-the-world son is sitting behind me filling in a Visa application to Cambodia (and farting). He is off to various embassies today and to get his Japanese Encephalitis jab (I still don’t know what that is but it better be worth it because it’s costing me somewhere in the region of £78 and that’s on top of £150 for a rabies jab…).

I’ve been relatively calm up until now, because of course it’s a good thing that he’s off to spread his wings a little. Flee the nest for a minute. I know SEA really well – I couldn’t love it more. I have never felt safer. However putting myself into the mind and body of a 19 year old boy with 6 mates is an entirely different matter. Their brains function differently. They’re not sensible. Now that I’m getting a little more involved in the detail I’ve noticed my stress levels rising. My friends aren’t helping – mothers of two other boys who are going with him – they are not only far more hands on than me but are beginning to freaking me out about things like losing visas and border controls.

Here is an email my friend sent me yesterday:-

“After being very laid back about their forthcoming trip – am now feeling completely sick about the whole thing!! Was online last night checking he’d got the right info re visas etc and went on a few sites about safety, crime rates, healthcare, emergency services or lack of them!! Also read a few students real life experiences and freaked myself out. Anyway obviously haven’t slept a wink and now becoming completely paranoid so Catholic priest booked in for major blessing plus have asked a girl who has recently come back from travelling to meet up with them to chat about her experiences of travelling through Asia. She’s back from uni for a few days so thought it might be a good idea to get the boys together with her for a drink. I know my son won’t be impressed that I’m now interfering but his whole approach so far seems very naive and vague. Nowhere in Asia seems particularly great for blonde English teenage youths but Cambodia – well certain parts – sounds really scary.

Sorry don’t want to make you nervous and I’m sure they’ll be fine but I think the reality of them being away for a long period of time in strange lands is just hitting home!”

My response:-

FFS – the bloody rubber ring thing in Laos!! Shall we just follow them in disguise? I think I can get my mother to come for 4 months. Should be fine. Would be good to get together. Maybe we could also find somebody who looks awful who spent some time in a Thai prison to come to the pub for a drink too? Just to put them off? Know anyone?

Hers:-

Yes any deterrent is a good idea – this weekend I’m planning to run continuous showings of Apocalypse Now, The Deerhunter and The King of Siam – that should be enough to put anyone off!! Be good to meet up soon.

Mine:-

“Don’t forget “Midnight Express” – that’s the best one!! Must order it on Amazon now.

Anyway. You see how easy it is to whip yourself up into a frenzy of total panic. At this rate I’ll be at the airport refusing to let go of his leg and shouting at all the security men to stop him.

I wonder if this is because he’s my firstborn and it’s all new. Another phase in his life that I want to be involved in, take an interest in. Like all the 85,000 photos I took of him when he was born, started crawling, walking, swimming, going to school – as if he was the first child to ever do all that stuff. Isn’t it incredible how much information you can absorb at each stage – I was so knowledgeable on breast Vs bottle feeding and prams and primary schools and contagious water born diseases you can catch in swimming pools. I’ve got notes on his growth, his first words, I’ve even got a little box of his teeth. Surprised I haven’t got test tubes full of poo samples to be honest.

I wonder how much that level of focus from a parent affects the child long term and whether it’s therefore a good or bad thing that my third child is going to have an entirely different experience. He is at the opposite end of the spectrum and is convinced that there isn’t one photo of him growing up and to be honest, although I try to convince him otherwise, I haven’t found it yet. I have no memory of his first words, no photo album of his first year, no little umbilical cord clips (yuk) and no box of teeny weeny teeth. In fact, I am ashamed to admit that once, when I managed to lose his tooth before it went under his pillow for the tooth fairy I “borrowed” one from my little box that belonged to his older brother – but it was a little brittle and the wrong colour and he wasn’t really convinced.

Does this mean I’ll be far more chilled when it comes to his travels? Maybe I won’t even notice he’s gone….Unlikely. He’s my last child. He gets just the same amount of love from me, but in a different way. Must ask him about it all though and maybe try harder in future – wonder if he will want me to come with him to the hairdressers and save some locks of hair and other such stuff….

Here’s a picture of the winning prize:-

I was going to ask you to send in your child’s drawing of a louse but actually they’re not going to be that bothered about the prize because it’s not more for parents than kids – so instead, perhaps you could just let me know how many legs a head louse has and leave it at that. If you’ve got any funny head lice stories then even better – it’s not a particularly attractive subject is and I’m trying to make this post a little more sexy – it’s not really working.

If anybody reading this is considering sending me a Valentine’s card because I’m newly single then just to confirm, I don’t actually have lice (and neither do my children – although yes, I do have children. Lots of them) I’m just doing a competition.

If you don’t know what head lice and/or nits are then you will find all you need here on the Vosene nit knowledge site for all your nitting needs:-

http://www.vosenekids.co.uk/headlice-knowledge/

I am 42 years old and the mother of four daughters who are 15, 14, 12 and 4. In June 2010 I was probably fitter than I had ever been as I had been training for a marathon. I can remember thinking how well I felt then which is fairly ironic looking back. One evening as I took off my bra I noticed a tiny, dark brown spot in the bra cup, I honestly didn’t think much of it and assumed I may have dropped a little bit of my favourite Green and Black’s chocolate down my front as I am such a clumsy eater! The next day I wore a different bra but noticed it again and then the next day and the next. It became obvious that my nipple had some sort of discharge and so I booked a Doctor’s appointment, at that time it never even crossed my mind that it might be particularly sinister.

The Doctor thought it was probably nothing but I was referred to my local breast clinic at Kingston hospital. My friend Lucy came with me and the first thing I noticed was that the clinic was absolutely full to bursting. I waited for ages to be seen and then when I finally was the Doctor was charming, reassuring and very calm. He sent off a sample of the nipple discharge and said I should return a week later. When I went back the following week he said that there were some abnormal cells in the discharge but he wanted to do a biopsy of the nipple duct and thought that by removing the duct there would be no further problem.

I was seen very quickly and efficiently – almost on a weekly basis. This is what impressed me so much about the NHS care I was given. From discovery of the discharge to the removal of the duct took about three weeks. Despite the huge number of women that were at the clinic every time I went, the speed that my case was dealt with was remarkable.

I returned to the clinic alone for the biopsy results, I told my husband and friends that I would be fine as I was so confident that once the duct had been removed there would be no need for further treatment – how wrong I was! My consultant didn’t really beat about the bush he just said the biopsy showed that there were cancer cells in the duct and that it was called DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma in Situ). I remember feeling very calm initially but when the breast cancer care nurse came and took me to another room to call my husband, the enormity of what I had just been told slowly began to sink in.

After a further biopsy of the other ducts in my left breast I went back to see my consultant again. This time I took my husband with me. From the moment I walked in and saw the look in my consultant’s eyes, I knew it wasn’t going to be great news. He told me that the whole breast had extensive DCIS and would therefore have to be removed and how sorry he was, but that the prognosis was good if I had the surgery. As I sat nursing a coffee afterwards I recall holding my husband’s hand as he sobbed, whilst I calmly reassured him everything would be fine. Isn’t it funny how we all deal with things differently?

And so I was put on the waiting list to have my DIEP Flap mastectomy done at the Royal Marsden in Chelsea in September. This was all fine as we were supposed to be driving to the South of France on holiday as a family in mid July. However as the date approached for us to go I began to feel more and more unwell and it became obvious that I had an infection in my breast from the second biopsy. When I went to A & E I was told that my Consultant had accidentally cut off the blood supply to my nipple when he did the last biopsy and so basically my nipple was dying and I was told I shouldn’t go on holiday. My husband and the older children drove down to St Tropez leaving me and my three year old at home. A week later after being shown how to change my own dressings we flew to meet the rest of the family on holiday. It was a strange holiday as I was living under such a black cloud but it was good to be away from all the hospital appointments and although I hadn’t told the children about my planned surgery – my husband was being kind and loving.

However nothing could have prepared me for the moment as I was doing my daily dressing change. The sun was blazing through the window, it was an idyllic morning on the French Riviera, but as I looked down at my dressing I realised with shock, horror and slight amusement that my nipple had actually fallen off. It’s hard to know what to do in such circumstances, such as how do you then dispose of it and would it be appropriate to pop it in the bin in the kitchen or not? Anyway I did get rid of it and I do think it’s quite funny that my nipple dropped off in St Tropez – there must be a song title in there somewhere!

And so I had my mastectomy in mid September. It was a six hour operation done by a fantastic plastic surgeon and his team at the Marsden. They took fat from my stomach in a “tummy tuck” style operation and moved it to my left breast which was reconstructed at the same time. Within 12 hours I was up and about – I remember feeling self-conscious at my lack of make-up and looking so utterly revolting, so even though I had a 21 inch scar around my tummy I decided to paint my toe nails just so I could feel a bit more normal!

Since then I have had two more operations to reconstruct my nipple and I am now waiting for my tattoo to be done which is basically around the areolae area to create a sort of trompe l’oeil type of effect…. should be interesting – never thought I would get a tattoo!

This might sound a bit weird but all in all it has been a very positive experience. I know I was lucky. I was lucky to have had a sign that something was wrong so early that it could be dealt with quickly. I even think how if it had been in the winter months and I was wearing a black bra instead of a cream one – I wouldn’t necessarily have spotted the discharge. I was lucky too that once I had my mastectomy done I didn’t need further treatment. I know so many people who have had radiotherapy, chemotherapy and are on Tamoxifen in addition to the surgery. My surgeon is a complete genius and has created a wonderful new breast that looks incredible. I was in a bikini lying on a beach four months after my surgery – admittedly I did have big pants on as my scar is rather wide but you would never really know otherwise.


And so for all the awful, heart wrenchingly painful stories that you might have read about breast cancer….please remember there are so many positive ones too. Naturally I did have my dark moments – usually when I was putting my little three year old to bed and as I kissed her soft, sweet smelling hair goodnight I would wonder if I would be there for her as she grew up. But there is nothing more life affirming than having children and they have given me more strength than they will ever know.

Thankfully my oldest son has finished his exams now so that’s one less stress to worry about. Instead, I am swiftly moving on to mild hysteria about his upcoming “Gap year” travel plans. My friend came round today – she’s being much more hands on about sorting out visas and vaccinations and routes and stuff and saying things like “when are you going to the Thai Embassy and make sure you scan copies of the visas so that if they lose or get everything nicked they can still print out new copies from abroad”. I have done very little on the basis that he is now an adult and needs to sort it all out for himself, but, I’m not sure that is the right approach.

He appears to be basing half his trip on an adventure he’s heard about near Laos – “mum, it’s this really cool thing you can do which involves like getting into rubber rings and floating down a river and stopping off at loads of bars and drinking and then like moving down river to the next one and it’s like meant to be really amazing fun”.

I didn’t give it much thought apart from have a pang of jealousy, until I spoke to my friend in Australia who suddenly said “by the way, make sure that he doesn’t do that rubber ring thing that involves drinking in numerous bars on the way down a river because loads of people are dying and there’s a big thing all about it here – the alcohol they serve in the bars is massively potent and they get so pissed they drown”.

Shit.

So now what? Suggesting he doesn’t bother with that adventure isn’t going to make the slightest bit of difference I’m sure.

Sometimes being a single parent is ridiculously hard. Trying to manage the balance between being a concerned mother and a disciplinarian very often doesn’t really work. You sort of get wrong on every level. Half the time when I try and talk to them they either roll their eyes or fall about laughing. Of course I will tell him not to do it – but will it work? Unlikely. They are invincible at that age remember. Perhaps, when he leaves next month, rather than ask for regular updates or follow his journey via Facebook I might be better to totally pretend he doesn’t exist and hope for the best.

Like that’s going to work.

My Google search is full of things like “weather in Chiang Mai” and “the Great Barrier Reef hostels”. How do you get on with your life when you have a child out in the big wide world? I can’t bear the thought of him being away for FOUR MONTHS. Any advice on that subject will be most gratefully received.

Maybe I should go with him.

In addition I have many man jobs to do in my house. I don’t mean to be sexist – it’s just that I’m useless at putting up shelves and bleeding radiators. I can’t even get the bulb out of my bedside lamp so I have the whole thing sitting by the front door to take to the shop – I need to get a new bulb and ask them to take the old one out – it’s just that I’m a bit too embarrassed to ask.

My “man drawer” has grown over the years. I now have a tool box with a hammer I’ve never used and several spanners. There was a torch in it recently but one of the children has stolen it and there are also lots of nails but I don’t know where I would bang them in.

It’s hopeless.

Valentine’s Day is coming up and the children are all beginning to show signs of planning. I however am going to go into a massive sulk about not having anyone to buy anything for. Perhaps I should start thinking about posting anonymous cards to people I admire….it’s just that I can’t think of anyone at the moment. Except maybe Johnny Depp who I understand is recently separated. But that won’t work. He’ll be traumatised for at least the next 10 years.

My daughter has finished her mocks and is now planning her holidays post GCSE’s. These too are causing havoc with my mind. All that “WHY can’t I do this or that? You clearly don’t trust me at all” stuff. It’s so exhausting. When I was 16 I wasn’t allowed out past 10pm at weekends or even have friends round. This of course resulted in any bad behaviour being conducted elsewhere. So I know the drill. It’s better to keep them close. Know what they’re up to. But they’re all growing up WAY too fast.

Consequently I think it might be best if I and my youngest child move shortly to a monastery.

I can no longer cope.

Anybody know a good monastery that takes children? (and lets me drink and speak and buy shoes from time to time but not necessarily in that order).

I suspect everybody thought I was the nanny – which was great although Sally was very lovely about introducing me to everyone who came up to her to tell her that they’d loved her “for like 150 years”. I chatted away with Sadie Frost’s mum who has a role in the film and with Sadie and her sister and they were all just lovely. Boy George has a make-up less cameo role so I didn’t recognise him. In the screening itself I actually sat in between Sally and Sadie in the front row. How bizarre was that?

Sally agreed to be in the film having looked at Ben’s website – I think he is still astounded that she agreed to be in it but I suspect it was because she recognised in him a very young raw talent with refreshing originality – very reminiscent of her work. He’s only 26 and is just beginning to ruffle his brand new feathers and flex his muscles, but it’s impressive that he has managed to produce a 30 minute film for £20K – the film as Sally describes it is “a fusion of Tim Burton mated with an Athena postcard. Very kitsch Goth”.

The synopsis is :-

FUR FOX SAKE, ALL ANIMALS ARENT EQUAL

During her performance in a tasteless musical based on Animal Farm, Ex fashion designer and fur fanatic, Anne Thrope (Sadie Frost) is kidnapped by a group of animal activists led by her nemesis, Audrey Hoober (Sally Phillips). However, have the activists bitten off more than they can chew? With the help and hindrance of Thrope’s put upon assistant, Verdell, the police close in on the kidnappers. But is too late? And is it Anne that needs salvation…?

It was sort of Eraserhead-esque to me – a spectacularly dark comedy with lots of practicing with different styles – funny but in a horror sort of way. Just weird. But an interesting project and as Sally said to Ben’s parents when they came up to thank her so much for “supporting their boy” “I can absolutely see people writing a PHD thesis about Ben’s early work one day.” “He is one to watch” she thinks – “a curates’ egg”.

Here’s a photo I took of Sally looking gorgeous, with Ben:-

and here is a photo Sally took for her baby’s photo album of his first film preview and DJ night – very cool. He loved every minute. However, probably it should have been her holding him, not me….and no I don’t think Ben actually took a bite out of his head even if it looks as if he really, really wants to:-

and here are a few more of us – some from the film – the gorgeous man to my left is Nat Wella – Paul’s son!:-

I can’t believe how expensive it is to send him on his way – of course I’m not paying for his ticket or for accommodation (yet, until he runs out of money) but the vaccinations. Good grief. Rabies for example costs about £120 – I held out for a few days thinking “who gets rabies jabs? My parents never bought me one of those. What is the likelihood of him getting bitten by a frothy mouthed bat? But then thoughts of vast needles into stomachs got the better of me and I succumbed. It only actually buys you 48 hours to get treatment rather than 24 and hopefully lessens the need for stomach injections, but still. Now though he says he needs to be vaccinated against “Japanese Encephalitis” – WTF is that??? Apart from being another very expensive injection I have never heard of it. Wondering if these boys are on to an impressive scam. “Mum, can I have £150 cash to pay the nurse for my “Cambodian Hydrocephalogogus” jab please?

My daughter has finished her mock GCSE’s today as well. THANK GOD again. She was massively stressed and really indignant that the house wasn’t filled with enough Custard Creams and cups of tea for her liking.

Perhaps things will calm down a little now. I ran this morning from massively stressed house with everyone ranting and raving to the studio where I teach and attempted to pretend that I was the voice of calm reason. It must have worked (or I am just really boring) because for the first time ever somebody actually fell asleep on their mat. I had to wake her up!