Dear so and so...

The 'Dear So and So... letters are a brilliant idea which were started by Kat who blogs at 3 Bedroom Bungalow. They've been absent for a while, but have been brought back - in style. If you have something to say to someone or something, join the club and grab the badge over at Kat's blog. This is the first time I've done a 'Dear so and so...' so please be gentle with me.

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Dear Tesco,

For the love of god, please, please, PLEASE can you sort out the trolleys at your Newbridge store. Either I am cursed or there is not one fully functioning trolley, suitable for a toddler to sit in, within a 10 mile radius of your store. They are rammed together (by The Hulk I can only presume) making it impossible to separate one from the other, there are never enough in the allocated trolley bays anyway, when the €1 coin does eventually go in, it is impossible to remove it when I've finished. Generally, this consistent trolley debacle leaves me in a less than positive frame of mind to do the weekly shop and if you don't sort it out I will permanently defect to Aldi. Humph.

Yours in stress induced anger.

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Dear An Post,

Please can you explain to me how it can possibly cost more to post an item to someone than the item itself cost in the first place (assuming that the item isn't a lead brick). I recently sent a small packet of paper notelets and a CD to my sister in the UK and it cost €7. In return, my sister sent me a massive box full of Playmobil which cost significantly less. I can only assume that these inflated postage costs are due to the fact that you send all parcels out of, and around Ireland, by rare albanian Alpackers or something.

Yours in disbelief.

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Dear Son,

I love you very, very much but please could you try very hard not to appear at the top of the stairs every night within seconds of your light being turned out whispering loudly, "Muuummmeeeeeee. Muuuuummmmmmmeeeeeeeee". It is very reminiscent of a scene from the film 'The Others' which freaked me out.

Yours pleadingly.

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Dear Little Old Ladies,

Whilst I admire your position in life and have utmost respect for the older generation, please could you sometimes notice that a very hassled mother is standing behind you in the queue who just needs to quickly pay for some milk and a loaf of bread before her children (who she has left in the car outside) start battering each other on the head with any available implement. I know you like to buy those lottery scratch card things, and always seem to have dozens of them to check and I know it's nice to chat about the weather and somebody's terminal illness but sometimes, ggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, it causes my blood to boil slightly.

Yours hormonally.

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Dear House,

Just a short note to say that I haven't forgotten about you. I honestly will get around to cleaning you thoroughly one of these days. In the meantime, I hope you like the new air fresheners I have dotted around the place. Every little helps, as they say.

Yours apologetically.

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Dear Fingernails,

You are shockingly neglected.

Sorry.

Yours shamefully.

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Dear Kids TV Channel Advertisers,

I am exhausted just listening to the ads for kids toys. The voice-over people talk so fast and the images whizz around so quickly that I have absolutely no idea what they are advertising. It is just a massive blur of explosions, poo'ing toy dogs, roller-skating hamsters, and something oriental looking. Oh, and I think there is a chocolate making factory in there somewhere? What a top idea for a kids toy........

Yours,

Brainwashed from La La Land

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Dear so and so...

I need a dress. A cocktail one.

Help! I am a Mother In Need.

Of fashion advice, that is. You see, I've been invited to two very fabulous weddings in the next two months (one of which is yours Julie dearest if you're reading this - yeay!), which is all very, very exciting, but leaves me with somewhat of a wardrobe crisis.

The dress code for both weddings is 'Black Tie'. Now, on the one hand this is most excellent, as it gives me the perfect excuse to go out and get me a new frock, but, and here's the rub, having not been out much in the last five years, (except to get more milk for wailing children, and more recently to get more food for miaowing kittens), I am having a mild fashion panic.

What exactly should a (ahem) nearly 40 year old mother wear to a black tie, winter wedding, where the style will be utterly fabulous? I don't want to look frumpy, but I don't want to look freaky either. I don't want to look like I've tried too hard, but don't want to look like I tried and failed, either.

Also, you must bear in mind that I have an unshiftable gelatinous blob where my stomach used to be (cheers for that kids), washer-woman hands and exuberant kitten scrapes all over my feet and legs. (I know, I know, I am a vision of absolute beauty).

As a sort-of start to this dilemma, I quite liked these dresses from the very.co.uk website, although again, I hesitate even to put these images up as I may be way off the mark and they will look nothing like this on me!

So, I need your help people of the blogosphere. What the be-jaysus should I wear? Should I be going down the black, cocktail dress route (and then what does one wear on one's be-scratched legs), or should I go for something more colourful? What shoes should I wear, assuming that strappy sandals are pretty much ruled out (or are they?) and is it really true that 'nude' colour shoes make your legs look longer - in which case I'm definitely getting me some of those.

Please help this Mother In Need. The first wedding is in 5 weeks. The clock is ticking.

All comments and offers of fashionable assistance will be appreciated. Comments left after 5 weeks time will not be counted, but you may still be charged. Please get permission from the person who owns your computer before wasting their battery on my pathetic needs. Thank you.

I need a dress. A cocktail one.

50,000 words!

Yep, 50,000 words. A lot of words. The number of words me and thousands of other writers are aiming to write before the end of this month. Why? Simply because November is National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo as it is know to its friends. The idea of this initiative is to get procrastinating wannabe novelists and writers, such as me, to JUST WRITE. Hammer it all out, get it down on paper/screen and go back to it in December to faff about with the commas and the apostrophes and to correct the terrible sentence formation and shockingly bad dialogue.

I am more than slightly daunted by the prospect, given that I usually don't have time in the day to write a decent tweet, let alone 1,667 words of, what will hopefully become, a bestseller. But people do all sorts of mad things in their lives don't they, like climbing mountains and throwing themselves off very tall buildings and I know writing 50,000 words isn't quite up there with the base-jumping adrenalin junkies, but it's my challenge.

So while others grow fabulous moustaches for the month of MOvember, and start their Christmas shopping and watch the final week of Masterchef the Professionals, I'll be here, tapping away, tapping away, tapping away......

Some other bloggers I am aware of who are also taking up the challenge are Slummy Single Mummy, Musings on a Life Quite Ordinary, Deer Baby and an excellent writer Alison at Head Above Water who wrote this great post about the whole idea of National Novel Writing Month - and how to get through it! The best of luck to them and if you're also participating, leave me a comment below.

I will, of course, keep you posted on my progress and solemnly promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about exactly how many words I managed at the end of the month.

Wish me luck!

50,000 words!