On Thinking Day

Share this Thinking Day message with all our friends and sisters around the world.

If you’re a Rainbow, Brownie, or Trefoil member

A Ranger, Leader or Guide

We all have made a special promise

From which we do not hide

We’ve said that we will do our best

That means we’ll all try hard

We promised that we’d love our God

From near and from afar

Serving the Queen and our Country

What on earth does that mean?

Maybe looking after our world

Standing up and being seen.

We should be helping other people

In whatever we may do

From your Mum and Dad at home tonight

To your friends at school

What we are, most importantly

Is one great big family

Where everyone is friends with all

Around the world and back to me.

Friendship is important

Let us remember that

Around the world are 10 million more

Of us under the same hat

Let us think of Lord Baden-Powell

Olave and Agnes too

Who created this amazing club

For me and you and you.

HAPPY THINKING DAY.

On Being Another year Older...

Another birthday has come and gone. No big celebrations this year. Saving it all up for the big one next year, although the thought of that doesn't excite me like it used to.
Why do we celebrate getting older?What is there to celebrate? Bits of our body stop working or hurt more. Our prescription bill increases. The children wear us out more. We need more sleep. We can't stay out partying to the early hours of the morning anymore. A good night out is now a night in. TV programme, take away if you're lucky and maybe a cuddle on the sofa or if you're really lucky you get a babysitter and you bundle round someone elses house who can't get a babysitter and have your take away with them.

I'm in no rush to go out and spend my birthday money. In fact it has been used to pay for the take away, kids cinema tickets and my Dad's birthday present. It might even stretch to a new battery for the laptop. The trouble is for the first time in as long as I can remember, which obviously isn't far as I'm so old now, my birthday has fallen at the start of half term. Opportunities to shop are limited with 2 boys under 10 at home with me. The word "shop" is mentioned and they go into overdrive, so it really isn't worth the hassle.

Next year will be a challenge. Not only will I turn 40, but I'll need to find a job too. My degree will be completed this October and after 10 years of being a Mum and not working I will have to take the plunge back into the world of work. Will all that change in one go be good for me, or will it just push me over the edge, knowing that the boys are growing up and I am growing old?

We'll find out next year I guess.


SLEEPY

On Making Friends 3...

Off I trot to the local shopping centres, CV in hand. I'm looking for any full time work to get me some money. I buy the local newspapers. I look through all the job adds and apply for a couple of jobs. What do I want to do with my life? What career do I want?
I get an interview. My first ever interview. It's with a food manufacturing company in their laboratory, checking for bacteria and testing the food before it is passed onto quality control. I was petrified before the interview but something must have gone right as I was offered the job. The boss was horrible and kept disappearing to play squash with another manager. The other lab assistant was someone I had known from school. She had been in the year above, but a friend of my longest standing friend so I knew her a bit. What a relief.

What was the job like? I hated it. You had to test the workers hands for bacteria, but through interpreters. When there was a problem we had to retest to try and pass everything. How long did I last? 3 months. I left. I couldn't bear it. Not the people, even though the manager was obnoxious, I ignored him. It was the work, environment and atmosphere.

So I signed on. Luckily for only 6 weeks. I spent my time visiting shopping centres again and scouring the newspapers. I got another interview. This time in a video shop. It was small with a staff of only 4. I would be part time but it was work. Within a few months I was made full time and given the opportunity to be on the experienced crew training new staff and opening a new flagship store in Lakeside. I enjoyed the work, but couldn't fit in with the team as well as I did in the smaller store.
I missed my friends and got into my head that someone else was taking them from me and taking my job. I could never warm to her. Was I jealous or insecure? Not sure. I did this for 3 months and then moved back to my original store.
I started applying for assistant manager posts. I must have come through the worst of things. I wanted more responsibility, more money and was actually enjoying my job. I was socialising with the rest of the team. I got a promotion to another store and fitted in well. I loved my job. I got married and things were looking great.

Only to find that they started closing the stores down. They were not renewing the leases as they were expiring.  Uncertainty crept in again. I didn't want to start again. I was finally happy and wanted the feeling to last forever. I didn't want to have to deal with change again. What was I to do? Where was I to go?


BASHFUL

On snow and its influence on men...

Why does snow turn grown men into 8 year old boys? What is so great about cold, wet, white stuff? I guess when I was younger I enjoyed making snowmen and throwing snowballs, but I can't quite remember when. I now prefer to watch my husband and two sons getting cold and wet and creating strange sculptures out of snow. I hold the camera and wait for those "You've been framed" moments.

Last year my husband was pulling the boys on the sledge down a local hill. We spent ages there. I was cold, bored and taken as many photos as I possibly could of the snow covered trees and landscape. We agreed one last go for each of them and I put the camera away ready to go. Typically, hubby slips onto his behind and slides down the hill behind the sledge and covers himself in mud. The boys fall about laughing and he has to strip layers off before getting in the car to go home. Did I catch it on film? No. I was gutted.

Today, the snowman was built in the front garden, paraded off for all to see. Was this your standard snowman? No. The first attempt grew to above the boys heads. Daddy continued to build. I was summoned to get the step ladder from the garage so that more snow could be added. As the snowman reached the giddy heights of 6 feet it was becoming unstable. Daddy stands on the step ladder to put the head on top. He leans forward and throws the snow on top like a potter throws his clay. Only it wasn't just the snow that went. He follows and lands right on top of the snowman, squashing it to half height and leaving Daddy laying across it's top.
Did I have the camera ready for this one? No. I'd been filming what had been happening during the past half hour and missed the one crucial moment that would surely have won £250.
Did they give up? Of course not. Apparently there is "No such word as can't".

The second attempt saw them use the fallen top half to make the base sturdier to increase the height further. The snowman grew and grew and grew. It reached nearly 9 feet tall with carrot nose and pine cone mouth and eyes. We took the mandatory photos ready to take to school and just as we finish the snowman breaks in half. Its a tragedy but the boys have achieved what they set out to do - the biggest snowman in the road. Both boys are satisfied and want to move onto sledging.

Unfortunately Daddy is not satisfied. The snowman is not standing and the task in hand is not complete. He insists on rebuilding for a third time before sledging. The novelty has worn off for the boys and their input into snowman 3 is minimal. Finally Daddy is satisfied with a 6 foot sturdy snowman that has a chance of lasting until morning.

Who is the child here? The 6 year old, 9 year old or 39 year old? Will he ever grow up? I guess if he hasn't by now he never will.

DOPEY



Biggest Snowman in Welling

On Mathematicians...

My husband works for a bus company compiling timetables and schedules in London. It is a very maths based department involving long formulae and calculations, although not degree level, as well as general arithmetic. His office of 9 people is an all male environment. It is a very intriguing mix of personalities.
There is the boss. He is a womaniser and constantly telling stories of the times he had whilst on the bus stands at the end of routes in his driving days. Jail bait and Two-bagger are frequently mentioned.
The deputy lives miles away and leaves home at 4am to catch the train to the office for about 6am. Why? So he can leave at 3pm and be home by 4ish.
Then there is Mr Negative, The Silent Terrorist,  Thingy the MCP, Mr Smelly 1 and Mr Smelly 2, The Manic Depressive and 1930's Geek. They all have one thing in common. They are weird in their own sweet way and all use maths in their work daily.

I've been studying Maths courses with Open University for the last 6 years and met some incredible people. Some students and some lecturers. OK, so it is Maths and whenever anyone asks what I'm studying their faces contort into poses that would challenge any gurning champion. Yet if they met some of the people I have shared rooms with at tutorials then they would be picking their jaw up from the floor. They are either smelly with hair that hasn't ever been washed and their laptop intravenously attached to their chest, or the women in the trousers that are too short and traditional maths teacher jumpers. There are the people who sit, listen and go home, seeming quite normal. Then there are the ones who query everything the lecturer says and delay us from completing the work we should in the time allocated.
If I take anything from any of the 11 courses I'll study for my degree it will be a comment made by one of my lecturers that had absolutely nothing to do with our course.

"All mathematicians feature on the autistic spectrum disorder."
This is so true. I've achieved  distinctions in all my level 2 courses and distinctions/grade 2 in my level 3 courses so far. And yes I am including myself in this group. Mathematicians cannot socialise. They prefer their own company. They are perfectionists, as maths is either right or wrong and in life mathematicians have to be right or they aren't satisfied. I have seen enough people involved in maths to wholeheartedly believe this.

So beware, look at dating a mathematician and you know what you're going to get!

DOC

On Playground Politics...

Why do I dread walking to school in the mornings and evenings? I'm nearly 40 and fear going to school. I don't work there. I'm not related to anyone there. It should be straight forward - walk the children to the playground, watch them go in, go home. So why do I try my utmost to avoid bumping into certain people?

If I see certain Mum's walk past the house on their way to school, I'll wait and follow at a safe distance. If I misjudge it and leave in front of them, I'll march to school so they can't catch up. I've even been known to cross the road when I don't actually need to so I can hide from them. What sane reasoning do I have behind this irrational behaviour?

These Mum's are extremely overprotective of their little boys. And it is only the boy's Mums'. I get on fine with the Mum's of girls. But these boys seem to be wrapped in cotton wool by their parents and when another child "does something" or "says something" to their precious little one, then World War Three starts on the parents. Yet their son never harms anyone or says anything to anyone. He's perfect...

Well that's what they think. I'm not saying that my son is an angel because he's not. He knows right from wrong, but is easily distracted and has a memory smaller than a goldfish. He probably has called other children names in the playground. What boy hasn't thought that "poo poo face" was funny? What playground games don't involve chasing when you are a 6 year old boy? Are these things wrong? Is it something I can deal with when I'm at home or shopping and he's in the school playground?

So why should my son get a punch in the face and I get an earful from a parent because my son called hers a "poo poo face"? I made him apologise to the boy and thought that was it. The other boy refused to apologise. The next day less people are saying hello to me, or so it seems. Paranoia? Maybe.
I then get the "sticky beak of the playground" catch me in the street and tell me that "...she said to her who said to her... that my son did..." Do I need to know fourth hand gossip? If there is something going on with my son that I need to know I expect and hope the school will tell me, not the local parental snitch. She then accused my son of making her son not want to go to school? What is it to do with me if her son is too precious to deal with playground antics, or is a typical boy who doesn't want to go to school? Toughen up. You can't be the nice guy all the time as a parent.

Next thing I hear is that my son has been pushed over and kicked a few times by relatives of the boy who punched him. Nice. This has happened twice now and the boys have confessed to doing it. They had no choice really as they were seen. They got into trouble and that is now my fault too. We seem to have a Mafia style clan at the school. Most of the children involved are cousins. The extra ones are either Rent-a-thug or the playground gossips kids in for the action.

Am I being silly not wanting to come into contact with these Mum's? Or do I just not want any hassle on a 5 minute walk to and from school? Just so long as I'm not being attacked on Facebook like another Mum I heard about I guess that's fine with me. I'm not on Facebook, so guess I'll never know. Probably best I don't.

Have these people got nothing better to do than stand around spreading idle gossip and unfounded rumours about other people and their children? Why don't they teach their kids about how to live life properly and what is expected of them instead of bitching to other Mum's.
And we wonder where our morals and good citizenship in society have gone.


DOC

On making friends 2...

Oh no. You are 18 and leave school. Some of your friends go to university in a remote part of the country. Some go off to work. As decisive as ever, I head off to college in London and stay living at home. But what does this mean. Yet again I have no friends with me. I have to start all over again.

As I travel to London on the train on the first day, panic sets in. Where am I going? Who will be there? What will they be like? I arrive at the college and find my way to a room filled with lots of new faces to take in. They're all chatting away as if they have known each other for years. Maybe they have. I find a seat. A group of girls start talking to me immediately. Was I comfortable with this? Probably not. I wasn't ready for that kind of interaction. As a lecturer comes in, the room settles as he explains what the day entails.After a very long hour, I head off to pay my grant to the admin team. I am alone again. Lost in a sea of unusual people and strange surroundings.

It is lunchtime and the group of girls from earlier are heading out to explore Leicester Square and what it has to offer. I tag along, feeling uneasy and an outsider. They are all chatting about where they come from and what they want to do. I answer direct questions and listen. That's what I'm good at. I watch people and listen to things around me.

The afternoon brings more of the same. Finding out timetables and where rooms are. Now this I can handle. Sitting in silence and listening. However, my life will change again during this afternoon. My course has been changed and I'm now only doing part of what I want to do. Part has been cut. What do I do? I make a quick exit after we finish to avoid having to talk to the others. I make my way home pondering my options.

Decision made. The next day I go back to college and quit. Was it the easy option? Was it just the change in course that made me give up my college opportunity? Or was it just too daunting to make new friends again? I start looking for work. I had worked in Woolworths at weekends for nearly 4 years and got extra shifts to get myself money. But I needed full time work. This meant applications, interviews, meeting new people and interacting with them.

I hadn't changed since school. Making friends hadn't got easier over those few years. How long will it take until this simple process becomes second nature? Should I have a label? Would I feature somewhere on the autistic spectrum if tested now or back then? Would it have helped me? Who knows?

BASHFUL