I’m just popping out for my break, you can go for yours when I get back they say as they grab their lighter and nip off for a quick chuff on a naughty stick.

Not long now you think, ten minutes later as they breeze back in from the designated area so you finish up what you’re working on in anticipation of their return.

 However they are nowhere to be seen as another dozen or so minutes tick by and you grow thirsty for your mid morning brew.

Eventually they reappear from their extended sabbatical fully refreshed; sending you off gasping for a drink and a see you in 15, don’t be late back we’ve got things to do. 

 I know this will be slightly controversial depending on which side of the smoking fence you sit but I reckon the Japanese employees that have been granted six extra paid days of leave after complaining they were working more than those who took time out for smoking breaks may have a point don’t you?  

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure so the saying goes and if you read this column regularly you’ll know that rather than revelling in how expensive something I’ve bought is I’m more likely to be found boasting about how little I’ve had to pay for them.

So as you can imagine I was in my element when I paid a trip to a jumble sale held at the INTRA arts centre situated on the high street between Chatham and Rochester on Sunday 4^th June.

I got there soon after opening and it was already full of people having a good old rummage so I sharpened my elbows and got stuck in to see if I could unearth some treasures for myself too.

I made the rookie mistake once of putting down an item I liked only for someone else to waltz off with it and inevitably found myself coveting the items of other people standing waiting to pay in the queue but still managed to buy myself a plethora of new to me goodies for just over a fiver so I’m looking forward to the next one, I’m not sure my fit to bursting wardrobe is quite so much though!

There now follows a party political broadcast on behalf of the “just passed their driving test” party.

You know what, we here in our small group get it, the frustrations of you, the seasoned road user.

There you are trying to get from A to B as quickly and as efficiently as possible when out of nowhere you find yourself getting held up by some numbskull that shouldn’t be left in charge of four wheels and an engine if they are going to make quite such a Michelin 5 star rated meal out of using their vehicle.

After all they’ve been awarded the hallowed certificate so they should know what they’re doing, shouldn’t they?

It is decreed somewhere is it not, the sacred first edition of the Highway Code maybe, that once a driver leaves the test centre with a pass tucked neatly beneath their correctly fastened safety belt they are in fact now a Jedi master in the ways of the motor car and those who choose to use it.

But the thing is while some take to their new life of freedom like the proverbial duck to water , there are those for whom  the transition from dual controlled journeys with a wingman to cover your back if you find yourself getting into difficulty to flying solo is rather a daunting prospect to say the least .

They ,unlike their boy racer counterparts ,shudder at the thought of being to blame for delaying everyone behind them if they should stall or falter at traffic lights or on a hill start because they so want to live up to the hype that being in charge of their own automobile has bestowed upon them .

They let every little mistake get the better of them , take it to heart and wonder if maybe they should go back to the examiner and demand a recount because they think maybe there may have been some kind of mix up or a mistake .

So we urge those of you who do know it all on the road to please give some consideration when you next find yourself stuck behind someone who looks like they’re having a bit of a nightmare moment behind the steering wheel .

Some of us identify ourselves by way of the green P plate , the P actually stands for probationary to show other drivers that you haven’t had much experience on the roads but we’d also like to give it its own little life motto and ask you to kindly to ;

Please be Patient while we Persevere.

 

 

 

We are very much concerned” so said the correspondence to parents “about the junk food pupils are purchasing and bringing into school everyday “

Large packets of crisps, energy drinks and cans of fizzy pop laden with sugar and fat are named as the main culprits on this most wanted list and we are informed that we must tell our offspring that if they are caught with them in their possession that staff are very much within their rights to confiscate them at the school gate.

So we explain that they can indulge in the odd treat once the bell signifies the end of the day but while they are within the educational establishment they must abide by their rules despite how harsh it may sound for the school is only looking out for their future health and well being.

They seem to take it quite well which is very unexpected considering , however the reason for their lack of disappointment soon becomes clear once you make a few enquires with them about why .

For while any of the above bounty becomes illicit contraband once it crosses the borderline of the school gates from an outside supplier, it seems it is however a different story if any of those items are purchased inside the school building .

Fizzy pop is dispensed easily for a handful of coins from a number of vending machines as well as being available to purchase over the counter of the lunchtime canteen along with the crisps, cakes, biscuits and burgers we lectured to inform our children to avoid because they are very unhealthy.

I could be wrong but doesn’t there seem to be a slight whiff of an ulterior motive in stopping certain items from crossing the threshold if they are readily available from within.

This preaching once you think about it sounds less like it’s about concerns for certain pupils dietary habits alone and more like don’t bite the hand that feeds the school with a generous helping of commission .

 

So what have you been up to this week, Nina?

Well, I’ve fixed a dishwasher that was showing an error code that would have had fainter hearted mortals ringing for the repair man to deal with because they didn’t want to get their hands dirty.

Unblocked a toilet packed tight with lavatory paper and other unmentionables with only the aid of some rubber gloves and a big stick.

 Picked up the remains of a bin bag and the deposit the local foxes had left for it.

Emptied out a cupboard that I have a sneaking suspicion one of my least favourite long tailed critters has taken up residence in and lead the hunt and eventual capture of  a “ gigantic “ spider despite having three strapping males in the house because they don’t like them .

And I did all that despite being just a woman , I know it’s amazing isn’t it , Philip Hammond ....

goodbyeeeee

All good things must come to an end.

No doubt as you sit and read this for the majority of you Christmas is now a distant memory.

You’re either contemplating when to take the decorations down or have already done it and if you haven’t already returned the spectre of work is looming on the horizon as the time for jollity and festivities is over as soon as it started and the New Year stretches out long in front of you.

The chime of Big Ben to welcome 2018 will have heralded in a new start or changes to some lives and for me it is no different , for dear readers after careful consideration I’ve decided it’s time for this Girl from the neck down to move on.

You’ve been reading my musings and ramblings on everyday life for just over 4 years now.

I’ve covered many a subject in my own inimitable way, sometimes with a serious edge and sometimes with an acerbic wit that’s like honey laced with arsenic.

Topics of inspiration have ranged from The Tampon tax to Thomas Waghorn and his penchant for sporting a splendid cone shaped titfer.

You’ve followed changes in my own life, my long drawn out attempt to finally get myself out on four wheels which culminated in me finally passing my test in 2017 and my slimming world journey that’s still ongoing after hitting a bit of a plateau during the colder seasons .

The little boys I’m proud to call my sons are now strapping almost 6 foot young men studying hard for their g.c.s.es and thinking about which career path they’ll choose to follow.

And as you will be aware if you’d followed my column from the start I’ve gone from being a cleaner scrubbing the toilets of my children’s school to combining my work life with one of my favourite past times by becoming deputy manager of a charity shop.

And that is part of the reason behind why I’ve decided that 2018 is time to rip it up and start again, it’s time to dedicate a bit more of my time to things that have maybe been a bit neglected over the last couple of years as I’ve racked my brains or drawn inspiration from the oddest things at times to come up with things to brighten up your Monday mornings.

Have no fear though this won’t be the end for my writing career, I’ll still crack on with it; it’ll just be at a more relaxed pace without a deadline to meet.

So there are just a few things left to say before I draw this column to its conclusion infinite and I have to sneak off dabbing at my eyes gently with a tissue as “ time to say goodbye “ pipes through the sound system and the curtains close around this special part of my life.

Thank you to Bob , former editor of the Messenger for giving me the opportunity to share my interesting takes on things going on in the world and helping me prove to myself and others that i wasn’t just a bored housewife with no opinion .

Thanks to the Messenger for going along with the subjects of my columns every fortnight, even the more eclectic compositions.

And finally thanks to you, the readers, without whom I would think I was just blithering away to nobody if you hadn’t made a point of coming to tell me what you thought of my latest scribing.

So take care everybody and hope 2018 brings everything you ever wanted.

Goodbye and good luck and thank you for reading.

Love

Nina x

We started seeing each other the weekend before Diana died, Labour had been back in power for just a few months and Britpop was just beginning to enter its death throes.

Harry Potter was a mere magical babe in child literature’s arms and Elton John became the sir we all know him as today in that new year’s honours list .

In our time together we’ve watched Geri be the driving force behind the Spice Girls before quitting at the height of their fame to go solo.

Seen Britney grow from winsome teenager singing songs to her love in her school uniform into troubled adult shaving her head during a very public meltdown before emerging from it like a phoenix in her thirties as a judge on one of Simon Cowell’s many talent related shows.

Celebrities we thought were lovely people who did great things for charity have turned out to be not quite as nice as some of us had been lead to believe , in fact downright despicable in some cases given the trust people had in them .

Brad and Jennifer became Brad and Angelina and have since morphed into Brad and Angelina singular and many other famously love struck couples have come apart at the seams when faced with some kind of problem or another.

The world of gay rights have undergone a massive makeover and now boy meets girl isn’t the mainstay of marriage criteria.

 And as for us, we’ve lost cherished family members, friends and colleagues, weathered some bad times, traumatic births, deaths and illnesses and managed to emerge virtually unscathed still cohabiting harmoniously because for various reasons neither of us has any interest in taking a trip up the aisle.

However due to a pension plan drawn up before the world became the much more diverse place it is today we may be forced to go against the ideal that has worked so well for us for all these years because it decrees that as we only live together I don’t class as my partners spouse and that should he pass away I don’t have any official right to money he may wish to bequeath me with.

Two decades, two children and a house together aren’t enough for them apparently, I’m no one important unless I’ve got a gold band on my finger and a marriage certificate tucked away in a drawer.

In this day and age I think it’s outrageous that they won’t consider revising that outdated view, don’t you?