Bye Bye 'Pider

I really don't like spiders.

I wouldn't say I'm an arachnophobe, I just don't like them. End of.

Photo credit: Ross Haddow

Unfortunately I married a man who can't even stand the thought of one, let alone to actually clap eyes on one. He puts them in categories.

"Heath! There's a category 2 on the stairs!" I'll hear him cry.

This poses a bit of a problem.

My dislike for the eight-legged blighters has been passed onto me by my mother and my husbands phobia has been instilled into him by his mother.  I really don't want us to end up passing this fear onto Mini Cheddar - our 2 year old daughter.

Basically I've had to grow a pair of balls, man-up and not show my fear when one enters our abode.  Luckily, during the dreaded 'Spider Month' (aka September) when all our eight-legged friends decide it's starting to get a little chilly and venture indoors, Mini Cheddar has been asleep so she hasn't heard the girly shrieking that goes on when one is discovered...or heard me trying to calm my husband down!

But lately I've noticed quite a few making an appearance around the house and garden during the day. Since Mini Chedder was tiny I've always tried to point spiders out to her if I see one crawling about.

"Oh look sweetie, there's a lovely spider"

Secretly I was screaming inside.  But lately I've become rather hardened.  Whether it's because I've grown quite fond of our creepy crawly friends or whether it's because there's this inner power within in me to hide my fear from Mini Cheddar, I don't know.  I just wish I could convince my husband adopt the same stance and not holler at me to get the vacuum every time he thinks there's one in the house.

Knowing the lack of spider love in the house my Sister bought us one of these spider catchers for Christmas and I used it for the first time last week.  I have to say it's amazing.  No, this isn't a sponsored post.  I just love the item so much.  You don't really have to look at them when you do it - genius.

I picked the scary offender up without harming him/her (how do you tell the sex of a spider?) and transfered him/her outside.  See, it's even humane!

"Bye bye 'pider" as Mini Cheddar says "Put 'pider outside".

So long as she's not afraid of them I don't mind.  My work will be done.  I just don't want her being so brave that she can pick them up and thrust them at me.  I've become hardened yes, but I still dislike the creepy little buggers.

Does My Belly Look Big In This?

Photo credit: luigi diamanti

It's usually "does my bum look big in this?", I know.

Thing is, I've been lucky enough never to struggle with weight gain over the years.  When I went past the age of 30 (*cough* over 6 years ago) I finally felt normal.

Up until then, in school especially, I was always the 'skinny' one.  I got teased in primary school for being thin. "Ethiopian" I'd hear them shout. Kids can be so bloody cruel!  I had HUGE ridiculous glasses too which were 'all the rage' then apparently. Oddly though, I never struggled with male attention - despite looking like the off-spring of Deirdre Barlow!

In my teens I was still thin but once I turned 21 I started to fill out a lot more but I was still very slim. In my mid twenties I was happier with my body and my stomach was so toned/slim that I had a feminine 6-pack. I've never gone over a size 10-12 (38-40) and I know a lot of people, friends included, who would kill for that.

However, when I hit my late 20's/early 30's that's when I developed what's known in our family as 'The Robinson legs'. They stem from my Mums side of the family. Mum too, like me, had a great set of pins on her when she was younger but all of a sudden they filled out. The same thing has happened to me. I hate my legs. Actually, no, I loathe my legs. I hate the summer time when everyone starts wearing shorts. Most of the time you'll see me in linen trousers even when it's scorching - that's how much I hate them. They also never tan so they resemble the shade of Casper The Friendly Ghost most of the time.

People always think that thinner people are happy with their bodies - they aren't. I still squirm and get offended when someone calls me 'skinny' and I point out my thighs to them. I guess those are scars from my school days that have never really healed.

I put on 3 stone in weight when I was pregnant with Mini Cheddar.  6 months of solid breast-feeding saw the weight come straight off. Since having her my body has taking a battering. I don't have any stretch-marks but my boobs have headed south and it's my belly that's starting to become a problem. I'm forever sucking in it for fear of my parents people thinking I'm pregnant. I'm not.

I've just tried a new top on that I've bought. It's lovely but it ties under my boobs. I study myself in the mirror. In my eyes I look pregnant. I'm not sure if it's the cut of the top or the fact that most of my old maternity tops were cut in this way so I'm just paranoid that people will think I'm expecting. BMC (Before Mini Cheddar) I was always wearing tops like that.

Mind you, before I had Mini Cheddar I could sneeze without thinking I was going to pee my pants.

I guess times have changed.

Carry On Camping

Excuse the pun but you're either in one of two 'camps'...

You either love camping or you hate camping.

Me? I love camping but sadly I married a man who hates it.

Mini Cheddar loves getting her indoor tent out and setting up camp in the living room.  I'd love to take her camping.  I mentioned this to my husband the other night and I was fixed with a rather icy stare - the kind many of us women have taken years to perfect.

"Why do you hate camping so much? Have you ever actually been?" I asked.

"Yes, I did it when I was younger with Scouts".

Hardly reason to hate it is it?  One bad experience when he was younger and he's off it for life.  Pah! Then he says "Anyway, you're the one who should hate it, remember what happened last time you went?"

Ah yes!  I'm suddenly reminded of my last experience of camping and I snigger to myself.  I only went for one night but was home by 8am the very next morning.  "Had a fall out with your friends have we?" my husband said upon my return.

"No" I yawned.  I then filled him in on what had happened...

Picture this, a lovely warm sunny Saturday morning in early August 2006.  3 close friends in a car full of tents, barbeques and booze cruising along the A55 heading to the North Wales coast.  We arrive at a campsite just the other side of Caernarfon so only an hour or so from home but it's just nice to get away. Considering we were only going for the night (and there was only 3 of us) we certainly didn't travel light:

How all 3 of us managed to get in I'll never know!

1 x 4 man tent
1 x 2 man tent
3 chairs
1 gazebo
1 windbreak
1 table
1 barbeque
3 double duvets
3 pillows
Food and snacks
Alcohol

Just look at that tranquil scene

We found the perfect pitch over-looking the sea. It was beautiful. Although, at the time, we couldn't quite figure out why everyone else chose to camp further in-land.  All the happy campers watched as we spent hours setting up out little camp.

Afterwards we chilled out, admiring the sea view, stuffing our faces with fresh barbecued food and drinking some vino.  It was perfect!

The weather was lovely and warm and we were loving just being together and having some giggles.

This was the view from our little camp

We watched a beautiful sunset and drank to good times, good friendship and laughter.

Around about midnight the wind started to pick up a little.  We thought nothing of it.

Later on we decided to call it a night.  I was sharing the 4 man tent with the youngest of our gang whilst our other friend had the 2 man tent to herself.  The wind started getting stronger and stronger.

Within probably 30 minutes of us all turning in for the night the wind was really hammering the tents.  I started to get a bit scared.

Although I was sharing a tent we were in separate 'bedrooms'.  Next thing my phone bleeps with a new text.  It's a text from my friend I'm sharing the tent with.

"Heath?  Are you awake?"

"YES!" I quickly text back.

We both unzip our compartments and meet in the middle. By this time the wind is really trying to lift the tent.  We stick our heads out to check on the other tent which is taking a real hammering in the gale. We can just about hear our friend snoring. We both start laughing about how she must be able to sleep through anything.  After a while my phone bleeps again.  It's a text from our snoring friend.

"I'm scared".

We look out to see her tent almost being blown away so she makes a dart for our tent.  The 3 of us are sat huddled together in the darkness.  The wind is getting stronger and stronger.

Then our tent starts to collapse.

Just then we hear voices outside.  Two women have run down to our camp and are screaming at us to get out of the tent.

"Just get in your car and drive!" They both shout in.  Seriously, looking back it was like they were auditioning for a blockbuster disaster movie!

We bundle ourselves into my car just as the tent poles are about to hit it.  I drive into the centre of the campsite away from the sea edge.

We all breathe a sigh of relief and wait until sunrise.  All I can remember is the wind dying down and us sat in my car passing the time by flashing my headlights at lots of rabbits jumping around the field.

RIP gazebo

At about 5.30am it's light enough for us to go and inspect the damage.

Both tents are half collapsed but it was our precious gazebo that took the most hammering.

We try as quietly as we can to pack up our things without waking the rest of the campsite who have managed to survive what my friends and I have affectionately nicknamed 'Hurricane Myfanwy'.  Bastards!  The contented campers - not my friends.

I ask myself, why exactly do I want to go camping again?