mamahog 'n the lets

...or just humid.
...or even just a tad hot'n wet

and this mama's hot'n bothered. can you tell?

i need air con... these fans don't do shit

and this morning loveday asked "mummy i wants for its to snow again now mummy. puleeease?"

seriously! so i realised, we/i needs to stop fighting it and start embracing 'the hotness' ;)


hot 'n happy half nekkid thursday to all my friends, of every dimension, and level of hotness. here's wishing you a gentle breeze :)

shimmy (or squelch) on over to my sidebar links for an explanation, if you are wondering what the hell all this hot air is about.


(jewelry designed and made by yashoshkosh)

and i am off on the hunt for the perfect iced tea...

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Labels: hnt

nutmeg me needlessly why don'tcha?!



how rubbish are we playing??? we got the tattoos... i got the beer...

yet it was so rubbish i ended up taking pictures of lets!!?? thats not the fan i know. of course i did tell the thuglets to "move outa the way 'o the telly!!!!" rather a lot, and to be quiet. but still.

we suck. i am not enjoying our matches much. and no matter how hard i channel love, energy and promises of free sex to all our players through the ether, my shits not working.

even swearing doesnt help.

of course i did know it would be like this. it mostly is when you support england. lacklustre. frustration. annoyance. a brief shout and moment of ecstacy (if we are really lucky, a moment of brilliance), and then back to nail biting, too much beer and vague embarrassment and deflation.

so sod it. i'ma train up the lets and get with the ladies program.

in my nighty... coz i'm noe excited enough to bother wiv the kit anymore.






SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT maybe that's the problem!
i should be wearing me red, white 'n blue after all. nighties just don't cut it with the ether. 'k. next match i'm using the whole kit 'n caboodle.

and face paint :)

Edit: this just made me laugh.. sing it to the tune of 'brown girl in the ring"...

"Sven Goran Eriksson,
Na, na, nah,
na, nah,
Sven Goran Eriksson,

Nah, nah, na, na, na, nah, nah,

Sven Goran Eriksson,
Na, na,
nah, na, nah,
He looks like a
turnip but he's not,
He's a
Sweede!"

not that i blame it all on him... i don't. but anyway, sorry, couldnt resist :)

ooh and if the video doesn't load click here

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Labels: the wonderlets

hello underfrilliers,
here's a little story about my brief time as a modern day mata hari. this picture was taken the same year...

a few years ago i worked at an english primary school here in istanbul. i taught a class of 16 4yr olds. it was a fun year, but i was tired of the early mornings and hundreds of kids, and after one year i left.
in the autumn i received a phone call from a the mother of a child who had been in the class below. she was rather mysterious but asked if i would please meet her for lunch. i was curious so said yes.

the next day i met her and her husband in a hotel restaurant. it turned out that he was head of security at a high profile foreign embassy here. from now on i will refer to him as mr G for 'guvenlik' the turkish word for security. they had called me because apparently they thought i'd be good at a little job that needed doing, since they remembered my appearance on stage at the schools christmas show, and i had no traceable current connection to them. and i was not of their faith (or any for that matter!).

i should mention here that all i did at said show was, wear a shortish skirt (bad idea number 1) and lead/drag/carry/push on my rabble of 4 year olds all dressed as elephants and sing "an elephant goes like this and that, (-swinging my right arm as if anybody would believe it was my trunk-) he's terribly big, and he's terribly fat. he's got no fingers, he's got no toes, but goodness gracious, What a Nose!" whilst my entire class of kids stared up at me silently except for 3 who sobbed throughout and took it in turns pulling up, or down my skirt and showing the entire audience my knickers. at the end of the song i did a curtsie holding my skirt up at the sides, said thank you to the laughing and wildly clapping audience, and bustled the useless herd of frozen snotty noses offstage.

so where was i? oh yes, so then the head of security asked me if i would be willing to to test the security at the embassy by attempting to lie my way into the embassy with a large piece of metal strapped to my leg.

i watched charlies angels as a kid, i watched mission impossible originals and james bond... 'Hell Yeah' i said. twat.

so they suggested i contact the cultural attache as she was a soft touch, and tell her i was working for a gallery in london and wanted to talk to her about an exhibition we wanted to put on. there are many artifacts here in turkey and she was a bit of an authority on a certain art style i should mention. i however was not.

the idea was that i should sound convincing enough to her to get her to invite me in, but my story should be shoddy and my contacts unreliable. she should believe me, but the people checking up on me should know that i wasn't who i said i was quite easily. the idea was the security people wanted to see how they would handle it.
the only staff who knew about it were mr G and the head of the turkish security contingent, mr Gjnr. everyone else, including all the underpaid blokes wiv guns, were clueless.

so off i go, i suggest the name of a gallery and tell them the adres and phone number, mr G and Gjnr then go and get business cards made for me with that company and my name on it. spelt slightly wrong. i go home copy and photoshop myself off a letter from said gallery using their logo from their website and ask a friend in london to print, sign and post it to the cutural attache at the embassy here, and then i call her up.

that was pretty scary actually as the first contact. i was living right in the heart of downtown istanbul. it was noisy, and every 5 minutes trucks selling gas for cooking and heating would trundle past blaring 'AY GAZ' at the top of their electronic recorded voices. they sound a bit like monotonous ice cream vans but louder. anyway i had to call her pretending i was calling from england to ask for an appointment, without actually giving her my return number or letting her hear istanbul in the background. i turned up some mozart. it was suprisingly easy, and i got an appointment for the next week. she even said "are you a nice (insert faith) girl my darling?" to which i replied "no, but i am an awfuly nice english girl" i hated myself for the first time.

the next week i called to confirm, i had told her i'd be staying at the hilton, but i'd mentioned that i had a boyfriend in istanbul. on the phone she said "we tried to call you at the hilton.." to which i quickly piped in that i had "decided to cancel that and stay with the
fella." boyfriend... miraculously she laughed and bought it. i hated myself again. i was becoming a professional liar.

so the next day i meet mr G and Gjnr in a hotel a 15 minute walk down the road from the embassy. we nip to the loo and they strap a large spanner to the very top of my right inner thigh. and tell me to say in turkish "its a security check i'm working for the G's" at whatever point i become too scared or i feel the guards are looking too scared. they leave via a seperate entrance and after telling me that they had guards out already looking for me on every street corner. i start walking.

i realise quite quickly that i'm being followed, but as i enter the building everyone acts normally. (remember they KNOW that i'm not who i say i am. they Know i'm lying, but can't yet prove it. and they must be scared.

i set off all the alarms. i take off my boots, and am given plastic galoshes so they can check the boots properly. i make it inside to the next point. there they check my passport and my business card. i bluff my way through the card. but the passport is tougher. my visa stamp is from 2 months earlier than it should be. i act all concerned as if its fallen off (that does happen here and miraculously i get away with it!) by now i am fuckking terrified. i am shaking, but holding it together and still joking and laughing. Mr G's second in command is looking nervous and he calls mr G.

soon he joins us in a lift and we go up to the main floor. (how did they let it go that far??!!) on that floor, everyone is nervous. i'm still setting off all alarms, but the men who have swept me with the hand machine so far couldn't locate the metal. finally they tell me a woman will come to give me a proper search. these guys are all sure i have a gun or bomb or something. i hear shouting through the door. the men surrounding me all grip their guns tightly, and they are visibly sweating now. i consider stopping it all and saying mr G's name. i'm really quite scared now. but excited, and i just don't want to be the one to stop it so i wait. and we wait. we can hear an argument but can't hear what's said. Everyone's fidgeting, so i ask what the hells going on? all affronted like!

then a door bursts open and the turkish top bloke says the words 'security check mr G and everyone looks like they melt.

they literally all step backwards, and mr G and the rest all nod and shake their heads at me. then i get a fair few pats on the back and am taken inside and given a cup of tea.

the poor girl who should have come out to search me had refused. that meant she got fired. i felt like shit. then the cultural attache came up, she tried to be smiley but she was so pissed off she even said "hmmm so you are not such a nice english girl after all"
but the security chiefs both said i was incredibly brave. and asked me if i would consider working for their countries airline.

i was flattered, but said 'Hell No!' genius.


.........me in another of my guises.. invisidancergirl.

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Labels: istanbulundercover, questionable past lives

would you believe that despite having membership to a gym and pool just 5 minutes in a cab up the road, i have not been and lain by the pool once yet this year?
the only time i've been to the pool at all was when piree louise snuffed it.
and i didn't do much sunbathing then either what with all the splashing n stuff.

when i was a younger hog, nothing could stop me stripping to my underfrillies and lying in the sun for hours on end. but now... ooh its just too damn hot. and boring.

but today i think i may just brave it. i'll work our first mind you. but then i feel the need for some sunshine on my pale, northern european skin.

i've got the high factor suncream, a book and my dark glasses. and i'ma wear my favourite frilly bikini.

i just wish i looked as good in it today as i did when the lets were wee (er). if only i could lay off the cheese... sigh.



i'm sorry its yet another archive shot. i dunno whats up with me lately.. chronic disorganization probably, or over heating... but i'm still searching for a better excuse. for myself.

happy hnt darlin's

and if you don't know why i'm half nekkid, see the button in the side bar

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Labels: hnt, the wonderlets

Yet again...

I read the fuckin news.

i cant do much. i'm tired. i'm sick. but in a world gone crazy.. or at least a country, my frustration reaches new levels and i need to know what you think.

since the last fuckwit British paedophile sweeney was sentenced to life (meaning a minimum of only 5 or 6 years??) for kidnapping and abusing a 3rd old 3 times, after just finishing a sentence for abusing a 6 year old for which he served 18months????????, blighty's gone mad.

the tabloids are baying for internet records of released sex offenders.
major politicians are baying for tougher sentencing.
and the left, the liberal, and the usually intellectual are saying this is wrong. that we should be talking of rehabilitation, and cutting down on prison numbers.

i would like to agree. i'm not sure that the publishing of offenders details is a good idea either sadly. i think it would mean forcing them underground which is the last thing we need. and i do agree in rehabilitation... if its actually 'worked on' rather than just making our criminals sit on their arses for the duration of their sentences and then asking them to behave themselves in the future.

but tougher sentencing, wrong? why??

i realise its expensive to run prisons. i agree that rehabilitaion programs are the way forward.. one at least.

but for pedophilia can that ever work??

you can re-train burglars and thieves, you can help them to find better, and more profitable employment by teaching them more socially friendly skills.

you can even give therapy and anger management to thugs and murderers, most act 'spur of the moment' so i believe often that rehabilitation could work.

but psychopaths and child molesters and rapists? it just doesn't work. Its too ingrained. Its a need within these people, along with an utter disregard for their actions, or victims.

how many times do we have to test them out on the young and the innocent before we accept that they are just evil?

and what is it with these soft sentences anyway.. 18months?! 5 years?? 8 years seems to be the maximum for raping someone and leaving her to die as long as she 's lucky (?) enough to live. and don't forget of course that they'll only serve half that if they plead guilty. (and behave themselves in prison where suprise suprise there are no innocent children upon whome they could misbehave!)

yet robbery 'll get ya 12years no problem. and look at the sentences for dealing or possessing marijuana.

people that hurt children are the lowest form of life. we all agree with this no? so why are we so quick to turn the issue away from them, and back to philosophical aguments about freedom and justice. they are not going to get better. they are going to reoffend. we have got to keep them away from our children.

by all means lets spend their time in prison (life meaning life)practicing rehabilitation techniques, giving them therapy whatever. if we can eventually find a way to cure these freaks FANTASTIC. but right now we cant. it just doesn't work. these dangerous organisms cannot fit in. they will always be a menace.

is the expense of housing sex offenders really worse than the expense of letting our children and vulnerable adults have their lives and those of their families damaged so severely?

instead of all this reactionary to and fro'ing of left and right, and progressive and conservative, shouldn't we stick to the actual issue at hand?

what are we going to do? if none of our solutions so far have worked and our children/vulnerable are still in danger what can we do with these freaks

so what am i trying to achieve here now? am i just wanting to rant? do i want to start a debate amongst my readership?

both i guess. i just needed to say it somehow. really needed.
i've been sitting here on and off for 3 hours wanting to say it to someone. anyone. then finally i just wrote it now.
and i want to know what other people think.
i know some of you are reactionary. and some of you are more liberal/careful
i want to know if any of you actually think of the wider issues....
i dunno, i just need to say it and question i guess
whatever i get back.

here are some links if anyone can be bothered. and are thick skinned enuff!
this first one is a comment by roy hattersly. the comments by readers after it make for frustrating reading too... the second is written by a survivor, and is interesting, though the comments again are quicksand.
Against truth and logic
Sweeney is not the only guilty one
This mad rush to lock people up
Minister has to apologise for criticising judge
Playing to the press gallery
Reid warned of 'lynch mob law' over parental access to paedophile details
Police chiefs condemn Reid for 'complying with tabloid wishes'
Judge condemns Reid's 'intemperate attack'


EDIT: thanks to the the marvelous "shakespears sister i have just got some good news! off subject unfortunately but good news nonetheless.

Secretary of State Certifies Petitions
South Dakota Voters Can Repeal Extreme Abortion Ban by Voting “NO” on Referred Law 6

americans can still help by going "here"
come on we all need a smile after that! :)

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yesterday as luck would have it, (stupidly) two of the biggest annual events in the girls and my life here in istanbul happened simultaneously. causing rushing about muchly in sweaty taxis, swearing, tears, excitement, disappointment and embarrassment. followed by a smidgen of bravery and pride and just a little more red facedness.

a very full day all in all.

what NOw, could cause so much wringing of hands? i hear you mumble lackadaisically...

PIMMS i say! pimms at the british consulate yearly summer fete/garden party, timed perfectly to clash with the yummilets school show/production.

what an evil choice. PIMms, grassy gardens, book stalls, face painting, tai food (hey we brits only ever seem to eat foreign food!- we were promised pork sausages but just to add to my chagrin, these never materialized) and tombola. the high point for the lets was getting their toenails painted and taking shoes off briefly and connecting their weenie tootsies with the green. yum. as city kids living in an apartment in a city overrun with street cats and dogs, believe me we do not get to do that often at all.

so we dash around like blue arsed flylets cramming as much feteness in as possible for 45minutes (i didn't even catch a whiff of the long dreamed of second hand book stall... woe is meeee!), and i had just had my first sip of ***PIMMIYUMMINESS*** when i saw the bloomin time and had to decide whether to send the grassilets off with sarah to the show without me as planned. (their father and his lovely girlfriend would be there to cheer clap and film) or to go with them as they really didn't want to leave and had been telling me all week how they didn't want to go to school coz they were 'scAr'wered'.

so i gave GAVE!! my PIMMS, My pimms, dammit. pimms. i gave pimms awAY.

deap breath... and hailed a cab for us all.

it was a disaster.

the poor shylets. they have never been the bravest of girlies. and they hate having an audience generally. i think this is caused mostly by the inordinate amount of attention they have constantly received whilst out and about from strangers.

they are twins , obviously. they have green eyes and lots of blonde hair. and everytime we leave the house we get laughed at, cooed over, rushed at, grabbed and kissed. we also get a fair amount of people tying to tell me how they should be wearing more clothes, wearing the same clothes and how they will get sick if i don't cover their faces... they then go on to kiss their hands!! their BLOODY HANDS!!????

and then these grubby lunatics look shocked when i turn into a werewolf and tell them to keep their filthy hands OFF or i will have to throw them by the feet into the briny bosphorous.
once a 15yr old girl tried to tell me i was doing it all wrong on a walk along the water and i howled "i'm so sorry. you must be right! i'm a terrible mother. as you care so much, and know so much, please take care of them. i will miss them but i am probably as inadequate as you believe and would kill them by that fatal disease lackofwoolitis should i be selfish enough to hang on to them. please tell them i loved them" and walked off around the corner (watching all the time of course).

on my return i told her to read and learn before giving advice.

and to bog off. couln't resist, sorry. i am now kinda famous along that stretch of the river and as they can all see that the beefylets survived, they keep their traps n sticky paws to themselves.

anyhow, the fitlets do not like all the attention. it frightens them. so they did not like the stage. also remember they are the only english speaking kids. their turkish is coming along nicely, but it is still very basic. so as soon as they got onstage they howled. loveday first, yashi braved an extra minute or so, then crumbled herself.

i spent the entire production running across the stage, to and from the dressing rooms, grabbing, comforting, dressing, undressing (the lets, not me!), showering praise and grabbing and cuddling some more.

we caused havoc as a 'family'. kagan and 'Z' taking picture from the front, my running on and off stage to rescue howling scaredylets, 'Z' and i both dressed in high heels and flouncy summer dresses while the rest of the audience sat quietly, dressed in t-shirts and jeans watching their well adjusted kids be fabulous.

ah well. at least the shylets saw the 3 most important people in their lives dress how they liked no matter how inapropriate/unusual given the local fashion, make total prats of themselves, take as many pictures as we liked from wherever we liked and still laugh. gotta be a lesson in there somewhere. i'm just hoping its not ('you have hideously embarrassing parents, never let them come to anything')

and with a lot of reassurance and a little cajoling they did both try again at being butterflies. yashi marvelously made it right to the end even and gave a little bow!

the baba and 'Z' will surely have better pics so when i get them maybe i'll post some more gems. but for now, here's a taste of our afternoon. and our balletbutterlets*








it doesn't get much sweeter than that now does it?! except that i remember my lovely sister rosalie doing something similar aged about the same and refusing to uncurl. she finally had to be carried off stage still curled up just like this! That was seriously precious!

happy new week babes :)

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me: nuff sympathy babes:)
i'm feeling good today, and funny,
do you wanna hear my worst trailer trash sex in a barn story?
You: Abso-fuckin-lutely
23:18 me: one night i was going out with friends aged 16 or 17. i was at an 'off' with ben, a constant teenage on/off boyfriend of mine.
we were in a car going to a rave in a barn
23:19 i was drinking a bottle of beer in the back seat when we crashed and the bottle literaly knocked my front tooth out
it was hanging by a nerve
You: fuck
23:20 me: it was 11pm
and a friday. so there was nothing we could do
no emergency dentistry
we were drunk.
so i sort of stuck it back up (once it stopped bleeding) with chewing gum
23:21 oh god i cant believe i'm writing this.
You: swomn*
me: you are so going to not want to be my friend anymore.
anyway..
You: I'm so going to not want to be your friend anymore if you don't finish this story.
me: so we carry on to the party
You: Awesome
me: i get more drunk to dull the pain
23:22 we ALL get so drunk noone can drive.
23:23 somehow i remember 'waking up' mid snog wrapped up in a sleeping bag with some bloke i've never seen before in my life
i was starkers.
You: "starkers" = naked?
me: yep
he was ok looking i suppose but had goth hair!
You: heh
23:24 me: GOTH HAIR fer christs sake!!!
anyway.
You: Well...it was 86-87, right?
me: yep
i realised i was snogging him and suddenly remembered i had a tooth stuck in with
chewing gum
You: heh
(guffaw)
So punk rock
23:25 me: so i had to abruptly yet not cruelly, STOP the fucking snog lest he use his tongue and the bugger fall out
You: You're killing me
me: i had to drag him and said sleeping bag about till i had located my pants
23:26 all the time trying not to use any words begining with 'th' or 'f'.
23:27 can you imagine how hard that was, trying not to say "where THe Fuck are my Fucking pants???" (".....goTH!"in my head)
You: :)
me: hard work.
23:28 anyway i get em i get out and i spend the next hour avoiding THe F words till i locate my friends while dodging more goTHs intent on killing us all by THrowing aerosol cans on THe Fucking campFire
and drag all our sorry arses out of THere.
23:29 where i go home, and burst into tears for my lost tooTH, and nearly shagging a goTH
23:30 and everytime i say "i Fucking nearly Fucked a Fucking goTH you bastards! how could you let me do THat! i THought you were my Fucking Friends!?" the poor tooth would shoot out of my mouth to cheers of glee from my pretend friends.
23:31 rough.
You: aDORE you
That's a good story
23:32 You should commit that to your undapants
me: 'k (grins broadly :)

*(Snorting Water/Wine Out My Nose)

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Labels: hnt, questionable past lives

my darling underpant observers, this will be a rather emotional post. As i am feeling well, rather emotional today.
if you can handle a little rawness read on. if not, i'll catch you later in the week :)

this morning loveday is much better. we all slept like logs. until we were awoken by the rainstorm. i like the sound of rain in the mornings somehow. 'specially when its been so hot 'n stuffy recently. but today it brought some memories and little re-awakening.

i had asked their baba (dad) to come around early to take yashi to school, so i could keep loveday inside. And so the lets and i got up with the downpour and had a hearty breakfast. then we got dressed.

the lets have chosen their own outfits for a long time now. fuelled i guess by my desire for them to find their own identities and to not be muddled up/confused for one another. yesterday their baba's lovely girlfriend had given them some beautiful shalvars (babycatchers, as i have always called them. they are long baggy trousers with a low crotch. here in turkey worn by peasants and usually made from brightly patterned materials). they looked adorable, and that is what yashi excitedly chose for her outfit today.

i had told her when we first got out of bed that she would be going to school alone for the first time today. she was scared and said she didn't want to go. she said noone played with her, and noone talked to her. being the only English children at the yuva and twins this didn't really suprise me though it broke a little piece of my heart. So i explained that maybe today, because she would be alone, they would. and i told her that i would tell the teacher that she was afraid and ask her to help her. i asked her if she could be brave and try. she said yes, and asked if she could have a spiderman sticker for being brave. i said of course.

she looked beautiful in her shalwars. she was prancing about the house swinging them and putting her hands deep in the pockets.
then suddenly, she stopped.
she looked up at me and said, her face full of fear "actually mummy, i can't wear these. they will all laugh at me."

"of course they won't baby" i replied.

"yes mummy they will. they will all laugh at me."

and that's when my heart shattered. she was adamant. she couldn't do it. she needed to change into something normal. something safe.

so she did. we found an equally lovely pair of culottes and long socks. she felt safe. and when her baba arrived i explained and asked him to talk to the teacher about it, and off they went. she was fine.

i however was not.

i am overreacting of course. i know that. and for my childrens sake, this time and a million more i will bite my tongue, bolster them up as much as i can and capitulate. they need to build their own confidence at their own pace. and with my love support and protection, hopefully they will be strong and self assured young ladies.

more so at a young age than i was.

who was not quite so protected and supported.

anyway, i sent yashosh the brave off to yuva, set up collage materials and glue for the lovedove and settled down with a cuppa to read the paper. my old beloved guardian online. this sadly put the dreaded nail in the coffin as far as my day went, and so along with classroom snobbery you can blame the british (though it appears to be worldwide on this particular issue) in-justice system for my present melancholy.

this is what i saw Paedophile case ignites sentences row

Craig Sweeney, 24, was jailed for life at Cardiff crown court for the kidnapping and sexual assault of a three-year-old girl, but was told he could be considered for parole after five years and 108 days.

The attack happened two days after the license on which Sweeney had been released from prison had expired. He had served 18 months of a three-year sentence for the indecent assault on a six-year-old.

Sweeney, who was known to his victim's family, snatched the girl from her Cardiff home at bedtime on January 2 this year while her mother was on the phone. He drove her to his Newport flat where he sexually assaulted her three times.

was i satisfied with this much misery? Hell no. i never bloody learn. i clicked on the comment page and got this Too many have for too long been getting away with rape
i'm not going to go into the quagmire again here now that i sank into with that then, if you want to explore that and the terrifying blog commentary that followed the article you do so at your own peril, but for me, old wounds began to rip themselves open and i was sunk.

and feeling as angry, confused, and frightened as i was almost every day between the ages of about 5 till 13. and then residually until about 5 years ago.

as a child i too was sexually, verbally and physically assaulted. i lived in fear, without confidence and without protection. and when i finally came clean, almost accidentally as i heard rumours spreading around school about my alledged affair with my stepfather, i was subjected to many commentaries about my life thus far.

"you did play in a bikini in your garden"
"you did let him tickle you"
"you were always a strong child, stronger than me"
"you never gave him a chance"
"you were always over friendly with him"
"you were always difficult"

umm i'm still not sure which to believe. So i choose none.
because i can now. i can finally say, "i was a child" "i was a 5 year old child wanting to be accepted. wanting to be loved, and protected" i never asked to be struck across my face aged 5 because i had difficulty learning to ride a bike.
i didn't ask to have to look at his disgusting penis while watching saturday morning tv. in fact i begged to be taken out to ballet class. he insisted i stay home. and got his way.

if i did in fact become a difficult child, i can see why.
because i was scared. because i didn't trust anyone. and because i had noone to turn to.

i got out. i survived. it could have been a lot worse. but it was still fucking horrific.

i chose to be strong. i chose to be wary yet unafraid of men. i chose to trust women. i chose to enjoy sex. i chose to accept my own slightly fearful but nonetheless existent sexuality. and most importantly and most difficultly i chose to accept myself. my being and my body.
and i chose to change the world.

i didn'y have the confidence to do anything huge or heroic. but i did decide to never fear showing myself. and i realised that evil feeds on fear.

so i posed nude for art students. i made artwork about myself. i wrote cringingly bad poetry about my life, and i decided to never allow anyone to have any power which then turn to disrespect over me again. it didn't completely work. we all have week moments. but i realised, that the only time misery revisited my life was when i let fear stop me from being me.

if you walk down a street full of out of control dogs and you show fear they can attack you. the same goes for gangs of idiots, for rapists and for abusers. the same goes for religious fanatics, for bullies in school and for sad miserable individuals who need something, anything to make them feel better about their own meaningless existence.


from childhood, the only way to instill love and compassion and confidence, is not to frighten the innocent, the good and the weak into hiding their very being. their bodies, their needs, their trust. it is to encourage us to face them and to embrace them. we need to feel confident and accepting of our bodies. we need to see them. so that they are no longer taboo.
we need to feel confident of our feelings, we need to trust and to receive non sexual love and nurturing so that when we do finally begin our sexual awakening we can know the difference between the natural and dangerously skewed. only then will we have the confidence to say "NO" and have the power to stop the sick in their tracks.

because no matter what we do in the world at large some people will always be sick.

our children, and ourselves need the confidence to just be, so we can go out and force the sick to desist. without hiding. and without being blamed for those sick few who we had no part in raising.

because as much as paedophiles scare the shit out of me, so do all the people calling for us and our children to hide our bodies. hide our sexuality. hide our beliefs.

people like this repressed individual who i've mentioned before,

and these, who somebody else has.

because to me it just reeks of schoolyard conformity standards. and bullying.

and if we listened to them...... we'd all be seriously screwed.
i for instance would have never worn anything except navy skirts, white blouses and opaque tights and way too much make-up. i'd have had sex at 13 with some 21yr old moron who hung around the school gates, and i'd have worked in tesco's and never left cornwall, all despite my actual wishes.

screwed.

so, though this might seem a massive leap in many ways, i got very worried about yashi's lack of confidence in dressing how she wanted to dress this morning. because i saw the beginning of the loss of innocence, and in the trust of others. but more importantly in her trust of herself, and her own innocent desires.that is what really breaks my heart and sends it shattering to the floor.

but i will remain strong, and i will continue to do my very best to give her a leg up whenever she needs it. and i know we are together going to have climb and tumble from an awful lot of trees before we manage to reach the really super plump cherries.

but with all our practice, i hope that by the time we reach the top, we will all be able to tie knots in the stalk with our tongues, and spit the stones for miles.


EDIT. 11th july. i recently discovered that this post was quoted in The Times check it out.

EDIT. wednesday morning: i just wanted to say guys, thank you for all the lovely supportive comments so far, they are appreciated. but i really am FINE. as are the lets. yashi incidentaly was fine and played with "awl da chiwdwen" it was just a difficult day which brought things to the surface a little. and as this is my underpants, i felt i should and could write exactly how i felt. BUT we / i am doing great. so please DON't worry, or feel that you have to say anything of substance to help. you really don't. we are cool :)

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Labels: questionable past lives, the wonderlets

the lets have been poorly.


yashosh was the first to succumb to the dreaded rumbletum, a couple of days ago. "MummeeY, there's a bigger splinter in my tummy. can you get it out puleeASE?" now thankfully, she's recovered, but today the lovedove's hot, sad and pukey. bummer.

so we are all stuck in da house. climbin da walls. booooorred. the highpoint of our day today being discovering a hidden extra film on the incredibles dvd, and watering the plants. creativity had dried up and all anyone wants to do is sleep or watch da telly.

i wouldn't mind so much if only they would let me watch what I wanna watch. i wanna watch the football.

as many of you know, i likes me a bit of footie. and i have worked hard to foster a love of the game into my offspring from an early age. they were born 4 years ago... just 2 months before the last world cup.

they were dressed up, beckham style mohican's and all. we waved flags we blew little windmills, and attached them to the side of the double buggy when we went for walks.

as you can see they were the shit!

it got within those few weeks, that the sound of football on the telly and my raised voice yelling for engerland and singing the signature tune for the italian job became their lullabies. i guess young babies, who's only concern is milk 'n boob can relate to 'this is the self preservation society' rather easily.

the soft sounds of the crowds and yummy british commentary was as soothing to the minilets as kruder and dorfmeister (which they emerged from my womb to) and eva cassidy singing fields of gold or over the rainbow (their bedtime feed music).

until of course the inevitable crash 'n burn. or soul destroyingly being england, more of a fart 'n fall over.

even then they made mummy proud, as the empathlets obviously felt all the pain and frustration and abject misery in the room, and howled. and howled. and howled. as, obviously did their mummy.

so here we are 4 years on. finally they can kick a ball. and not just with their toes! we can finally aim a little, we can pass. but at the same time they seem to have lost the ability to appreciate the fine art of WAtching the beautiful legs. i mean the beautiful game. of course.

and even when i do put my foot down and insist it stays on, whilst interesting them in bubbles or collage making or playdough, they TAlk to me insessantly. they NEed something. they insist on telling me their bloomin 'weewee's coming out' when its obviosly not and even if it is, just go to the s**ding loo then you plank. and worst of all they are getting annoyed with each other and scrapping incessantly. which they rarely did till recently.

so while everyone else with any time or sense in the world is watching all the fun, feeling the excitement and jumping up from their seats, i'm writing this. listening to cats & dogs in the background, breaking up pointless fights, and fielding cries of "my WEe wee's COMing OUt".

enjoy lucky people. and pray they get better soon so i can utilise our lovely helper when she comes back tomorow (its her weekend at the mo)in a way i've never done before and beg her to go to the park with the loudlets duing at least one match per day.

the little buggerlets are still rather cute though. its not all bad of course. its just that films and their noise level is just a bit BIG. though this one deals with issues of world domination, which is probably quite a good thing for the wonderlets to be learning about. satrt 'em young 'n all that...i'm missing the soft footie drone, or even the quiet no telly sounds of birds and lets on the balcony...
roll on the new day i say.... hooray for tuesday.

i'll be back happier and jollier soon dearies. i just gotta get me a fix of tierry henry tomorow and i'll be fiiiiinnne 'n dandy :)

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Labels: the wonderlets

hello lovelies.

some of you quick blogger buddies will remember me writing something a little like this the other day whilst waiting for blugger to let me upload all the gatorpaint stuff in the post below...


"so i was slightly fwustwated.
that's a weensy bit of an understatement actually. i was actually feeling slightly murderous. i hate wasting time on the bloomin computer. can you tell?

what with that, the distinct smell of dead cat down our usually so sweet smelling dogshit alley on the way to yuva (playgroup), and all the other curious irritants flying around the underpantosphere (thanks for that marvelous word rob!).
i needed to go look at some 'craaayyzzeeeeeyyyy' art. so we headed off to the istanbul modern for a bit of that after i got the yuvalets back. i'll tell you about That later.

the best thing about writing this here post, then, was that once the uploading fingy worked again i could delete this bit of whine and pretend like it was all roses and pimms, noone would ever have been none the wiser. fabulous.

that's just cheered myself up.
;)"

which i did, until i just re-edited it and put it back here.

well it got me thinking about dogshit alley. (and not only about where do all the dead cats go?? i mean there are hundreds of street cats around here, and i often smell the dearly departed but thanfully never see them. do seagulls come and devour them? are cats simply super quick decomposers? does the adorably barmy old bint down the road who feeds them all, hide them in bushes to preserve their dead dignity? it's a puzzle.)

i thought about how lovely it is to do this little walk in the mornings, dog poo and smelly cats or not. we live in an incredible place, so the next day i took pictures.

although this will be mind numbingly mundane to my local friends, i thought some of you far away folks might like to join us on our walk through the village to school.
they are not the greatest photos ever taken, and for that i apologise, but it does give you a feel of our surroundings here. with all its hazards of falling buildings, too many cars, dead cats and dog doodoo's. i will try to take more artistic views of this amazing city, another time, but for today this is our little everyday trip through arnavutkoy...if you wanna join us i strongly advise you don flat shoes (the roads are treacherous) and sunglasses.

first up is the view from about 10 metres down the road from our apartment. yes that asia on the far bank.


and we enter dogshit alley.


its enough to put you off your banana.


past the terzi/tailor (not mine, i use another of the 6 we've got to choose from in the village.)


newly refurbished yummy houses. bummer about the parking though! lots of the streets here are blocked constantly by parked cars. the lets give a running commentary now about the 'naughty car drivers being not very nice and a bit silly.' i concur wholeheartedy.


this is directly behind me as i take the last picture. i am always afraid it will actually collapse on us one day, though there are people living inside, and they've got smashing geraniums.


and this is in front of us a few yards along. ruins, which i dream about rebuilding. its a lovely spot.


past the fruit shop, i bought some of these on the way home, yummy mullberries :)


stop by the bakers for a simit.


as we passed the flower lady the girls asked to buy some to give to their teacher. sweet.


i love this ruined building too. just the front remains, there is a carpentry workshop downstairs, and you can see the old greek church next door. they have a lovely rose garden which we wander around often.


this is the pitch at which the lets baba and assorted associates made total planks of themselves a couple of months ago


just a last dash up the road and a few steps to the yuva.


shoes off, slippers on.


and there you have it. the lets are learning to babble with other turklets in turkish and i can go home and have a cup of tea on the balcony.

which is just what i'm gonna do now before popping out to pick up some summer dresses from my terzi and on to the butchers and fruit stall. errands on a lovely summers day that i rather enjoy. the wonderlets are camp building in the living room beneath the dining table, but if i bribe them with pink ice cream i'll have little helpers.
yippee.

have a lovely weekend darlins.

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Labels: istanbulundercover, the wonderlets

last week, the lovely stephen newton over at razar media posted a fabulous picture for yashi and loveday, of an alligator peeping his head out of the water and spying on a turtle. he followed with a challenge for the goghlets:

"A project for Yashi and Loveday: Draw your own pictures of alligators and ask Mamahog to post them so we can all see what magnificent artists you both are."

behold the Prodigiousness that resulted.....

first, loveday's first take on gatorness. ***(as the belovedlets still don't really grasp the enormous differences between gators and crocs -ho hum teedle de dum dum deeee- this has all been executed to the magnificent soundtrack of our old favourite swimming pool song 'if you should meet a crocodile' enjoy!)

***If you should meet a crocodile,*** (alligator)

***careful, don't stroke him,***



fairly straightforward... draw with pencil, fill in with colour...


add detail, then create depth....


and drama.


***if you should meet a crocodile,*** (alligator)

yashi's first go..... this may need a little more explaination... or not.

***don't take a stick and poke him.***


she always points using her middle finger.... 'me rude? Never, i always use that finger.... honest!'


adding water to make a wash... the alligator is swimming out in the water so we can't see its body.


add spikey's,


mono printing... with your arse.



***for while he sits upon the nile,*** (keys)
which loveday tries too... giving us this..

TA DAAAAA:


***he thinner grows, and thinner,***

then 2nd go...

***and by the time you meet your crocodile,***



sadly he's gone an ouchy on his leg, and needs a plaster.











***he's ready for his, DINNER!!!***


i'm personaly of the opinion that loveday's gator tried to eat yashi's for dindins...

longwinded i know but the process is as fun as the finished article i think.
thank you steve.

we'll let you know about the fabulous art we saw yesterday another day. but for me the biggest lesson of the entire day was, that even in small doses coca cola literally causes culturelets to become phycopathic manialets who fall over ALot.

edit: thursday morning i just found this. so along with yashi's mono printing arse this can be my hnt this week. mamahog as an artlet in the 70's*



happy half-nekkid-thursday and rest of the weekend guys'n gals*

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Labels: hnt, the wonderlets

i've got nuthin. i've forgiven the scissorlets and even decided i like their fringes. i'd tried to convince them to let me cut their hair fer ages anyway so its all good and a bit edgy now. fab. but i have nothing funny to say. nothing very interesting that i can tell you about.

but i've got a new book. its superb. its making my cheeks hurt. and as i'm feeling a brain fuzzingly uncreative at the mo, yet need to post something new as my mood changes i've decided to just quote you some of the snappiest entries. i know this is a bit crap. sorry but you will enjoy it, even if its not me. maybe even more than me, i know i do at present. the book is called

is it just me or is everything shit?

and its a smallish encyclopedia of modern life as steve lowe and alan mcarthur see it.
its cynical its rude its informative and its basically the bees bloody knees. if you like smiling and don't mind a little colourful language then you really should buy this quite soon.

as its so cynical and rude i have decided to intersperse the quotes with pwiddy pictures of bubblets. enjoy.....

"power point
the microsoft tool that encourages people to think and talk like fuckheads."


"product, the word
'what products do you use?'
'oh you know... pens, ball bearings, all sorts.'
'no. i mean beauty products.'
'oh, sorry. you needed to be more specific. and less of a fucking twat.'"

"hare krisnas
hare, hare krishna
hare hare
hare bollocks
bollocks
bollocks krishna
hare bollocks
bollocks hare
(REPEAT)"

"faux swearing
(an excerpt as its i can't be fagged to type it all....but it is in regard to stuff like FCUK and a panel show called 'stupid punts')
....there is nothing big or clever about pretending to swear. if you want to be big and clever you need to call your shop Spunky Fucking Tit-Monkey's Arsing Cockarama and Co. now thats swearing."

and finally....

"thankyoutony.com
more than 60,000 american citizens have clicked on this website and pledged their gratitude to tony blair for standing by the us where other countries faltered.
site founder jon sanford of west falmouth, maryland, said: 'it seemed to me important that americans said thank you to the prime minister tony blair and the british people. when the call came to stand and be counted, the united kingdom came to our side.'
yes, but we didn't really want to. most of us would have been more than happy not to have come to your side. he made us do it.
in fact, i can't think of many places i'd rather be less by the side of jon sanford of west falmouth, maryland. unless i was holding a megaphone and a stick.
i wonder if anyone's registered
ThankyouTony.Thanksafuckingbunch.No
really,Ican'tthankyouenoughTonyforwreck
ingabsolutelyeverything,youhugefucking
twat.com?"

there are hundreds, including, the daily mail, alpha males, the price of a cup of tea, che guevara merchandise, alicia keys and many many more.

its kind of a little like reading lightning bugs butt.

or even comes reasonably close to the unfettered joy i get when reading rob's dying words at fuquad.

but you get to hold this one and sit on the balcony to read it with your feet in the paddling pool instead of being stuck inside. and it don't get much better than that! ooh, unless you could get 'em to just come and sit on the balcony too, to speak their little nuggets of joy that might be better... hmmm i wonder what steve and alan look like... and sound like...

i appear to have located my missing imagination. smashing.

have a good weekend dearies*

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Labels: the wonderlets

yashi this morning.........


yashi and loveday when i got back from giving a massage this afternoon. she still had hair at the back- its just up in a ponytail. but just look at the front!! loveday had copied her and hacked some off too. so they now both have dodgy uneven fringes. eeeeuuuuuw. but thank the ether its not those glorious curls at the back. (actually this is post me trying to clear the mess up! i'm not going to give up my dayjob, hairdressing is just not my forte*


yashi, 5 minutes after i had finished clearing up the mess. she once again hacked the front to 1cm.


my very sharp voice was much in evidence. can you tell? :) all scissors have now been moved to heights requiring oxygen and dried beans to scale. and yashi's name as of tomoro will be changed to 'elijiah elvis'. that's what i wanted to call her if she'd been a boy. it now fits. hoorah for the silver lining*




such a mummies boy.... uncanny huh?!

look up the link on the right if you want to cut in to half-nekkid-thursday.

and have a very happy day sweetpeas*

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Labels: hnt, the wonderlets