DVD Review & Double Giveaway

And now for one of the best jokes ever:

What is Postman Pat's name now that he as retired?
Pat.

Of course the beauty of this joke is you can amend it to suit you.  If you like fire engines (or, let's face it, Fire Fighters)...

What is Fireman Sam's name now that he has retired?
Sam.

See?  Now don't panic. Postman Pat hasn't retired. In fact, he is turning 30. As he inches closer towards his mid thirties life, I (and many other bloggers too,just in case you thought I was special) have been asked to review his 30th birthday DVD.

So. What's this special edition, fancy pants, "Oooh look at me, I'm 30, I know everything" DVD like? Well, there's the usual high jinks that go with delivering mail. There's the cat everyone loves but I think looks evil.  There's the whole "can you guess what's in his bag?" song.   I'm guessing it isn't an overdue notice or one of those catalogues selling things like solar powered penguins for your garden.  And wouldn't it be fun if Newman made a special guest appearance?

Pat is clearly doing something right if he has been on the telly for 30 years. My children certainly love this DVD. I love the silence that goes with them watching it.  

This special edition DVD also comes with a CD of Postman Pat party songs.  Rock on!!  We had a lounge room disco where we ended up playing the second song over and over.  While it's a great song, the dance moves it encourages are hardly flattering, "everybody wobble.... wobble like a jelly!"

Along with the Happy Birthday Pat DVD, which is available from 12 September, you can also buy a range of themed party supplies.  They look fantastic. I'm especially liking the "Postman Pat Party Paper Glasses."

To celebrate Postman Pat's 30th birthday, I am giving away a copy of his celebratory DVD.  For good measure, I also managed to get my hands on this brilliant kids DVD as well:

I LOVE Tinga Tinga Tales, so if you win it we'll all come around to yours for a sing-along.

To enter, it's very very easy.

1. Follow this blog if you are not already following.
2. Leave a comment below with details of how I can contact you.

It's that simple.  The winner will be decided at random on 9 September.

Yours in animated postal fiction,
Rachel.
x



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Modelling Can Be Really Uncomfortable

Welcome to my gallery of awkward poses.  

I'm sorry but I did have to include this.
She's climbing a fence wearing dental floss.  Everyday stuff really.

Fierce squats.

It looks easy but you try holding this pose.

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Swimsuit Shopping

You can absolutely tell men are in charge of all things military.

You never read this in the news about a torture investigation: The prisoners were subjected to an arduous bout of jeans shopping. They were forced to try several pairs which were all ill-fitting, rendering some looking like Oompa Loompas and others like muffins with legs. To further compound their stress, the change room was only separated from the rest of the shop by a crappy little curtain that was too small for the cavity. Their arses poked out of said curtain while trying to contort themselves into such ridiculous clothes.

For there are certain types of shopping expeditions that amount to a form of torture.

I recently went on holiday, and for that I needed to buy 2 items:

1. A swimsuit (this is the most universal term I can think of).
2. Sunglasses.

Let us start with the swimsuit. Ah, for there is a form of torture we all have to endure at some stage.

Realising my 6 year old bikini alone wasn't going to cut it, I set out to find a one-piece swimsuit. Off I skipped, laughing and singing, not realising that London is wonderful in many ways, but its selection of swimsuits is not.

I looked around and there was not a one-piece in sight. The bikinis were pretty dire too, unless you fancy gel padding to push your boobs up to your forehead. They're funny things, really. We wouldn't go out just in a bra and knickers, but if they're made from lycra it's somehow OK. Personally, when buying bikinis this is what I look for:

• Different sized top and bottom.
• The bottoms have to be ever-so-slightly too big. The right size will mean they don't fall down when diving into water, but they can have the effect of squishing the fat around your hips, thus having it billow out where your swimsuit ends. Unsightly. Best go for a slightly larger size but take care if diving.
• Dark and patterned. When those labels say "water may make this fabric transparent" they are not kidding.
• Slight padding in the top so your nipples are not the beach's thermometer.

OK? OK. That's all very well, but this time I was not shopping for a bikini. I wanted a one-piece. It finally dawned on me there was only one thing for it: Westfield at Shepherds Bush. Put simply, it's a really frigging big shopping centre. An Australian one. (I'm sorry but I really did have to add that.)

Still no luck. I was getting pissed off. I ate several pretzels then bought myself an ice-cream, hardly what one needs when trying on swimsuits but I needed geeing up. I saw a Monsoon and, wanting to go home, I made a deal with myself. If they have swimsuits, I will buy one from there. Even if it is awful.

It turns out they had a one-piece I could try. It took ages but I put it on, rather like sausage meat trying to put on its casing without the nifty little machine. I stood in the mirror. And quietly died.

For there, looking back at me, was Tinky-Winky. How had I suddenly become an apple shape? I thought lycra was meant to pull you in, not push you out. Also, my boobs definitely came to the shops with me, but I couldn't find them anywhere. Where are you boobs? Where?? They were gone. It reminded me of when I wailed to my doctor that I had no idea breastfeeding depletes them so. "Hmmmm," he said, "I guess they do lose some of their volume." Now there's the understatement of the century.

I was defeated. I asked the lovely sales assistant for some bikinis to try ("OH MY GOD are you Australian??? So am I!!! OH MY GOD!!!!") and she obliged. She brought me one that ticked all the boxes. When I asked her how it looked, she stood back, and after a good think she said very doubtfully, "Well... you can pull it off...."

Oh who cares. I bought it. They're more comfortable anyway. And contrary to what some believe, you can wear a bikini with a tummy and the world will still turn.

It's not just me, is it? Does anyone out there relish buying swimwear?

And after all that, I'll have to tell you about the sunnies another time.


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It's Music Confession Time

I'm quietly hoping you noticed my absence for the past week.

Last night we got back from a fantastic holiday in Portugal. No matter how good the holiday it's always nice to come home, although London has welcomed us with some especially miserable weather.

Here is a typical photo from our trip. If anyone has any tips on getting photos of a 4 year old boy, I am all ears. Even with candid photos, the minute he senses a camera he runs away. So here is one of my husband's attempts at a photo of the children and I.

Before leaving, I wrote a guest post over at the very lovely Mummy From the Heart. So if you too are grappling with the realisation you enjoy Easy Listening music, come and sympathise with me there.

I'll be back soon.
x



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When All Else Fails, Frock It

At the risk of sounding like an egomaniac, which is partly true, happy birthday to me! It's been a big year and life is good.

There is so much to say right now. If I had more time, I'd say it.

But I'm working on another project and this is taking up my time right now. We're nearly there, and I'll be sure to let you know about it when it's ready. You know, world domination and all that.

In the meantime, I'm busting to talk to you about Nancy Wake, who died in London this week. She was an amazing woman with an incredible story. So I'll be sure to come back and write about The White Mouse.

In less inspiring news, England has been a frightening place this week. I'd love to write about that too, but it's not going to happen in the next few days. I'll just say that I love this country, and it's been sad witnessing such thuggery in its streets. On the bright side, unicorns are real, as we can see in these photos.

So what do you do when you have a lot to say, but no time to say it?

You use a picture. And this blog being what it is, it has to be a frock. Looking for a summer frock, I found this little number with its built-in air conditioning.

Has a frock caught your eye this week? Of so, write about it on your blog then come back and link up. I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with.

I'll be back the week after next. See you then! xxx




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Glamour is for Grown Ups

I recently wrote about the early sexualisation of girls in a post called You Are A Child. Not A Stripper.

It sparked some interesting comments, so thank you to those who shared your views. And so that I don't leave anyone out: thank you to those who read it but didn't comment, or who didn't read it, or who intended to read it but didn't. You guys rock and you know it! YEAH.

I'm now climbing just halfway up this soapbox so I can share these little snippets with you.

Making headlines this week is this beautiful model, Thylane Lena-Rose Blondeau. Now there's a name that's asking to be misspelt.

Pout, leopard print, big quiff, tiger print, bling...

...pout, gold, heels, leopard print.... rabbits.  

Did I mention she is ten? That's 10. 10!! What do you think of this 10 year old model kicking back in her gold heels?  It doesn't sit well with me at all. If you need a reminder of what a 10 year old looks like, this is me at that age.

This is from a video because I have no photos of me at 10 here.
In this video, I'm talking about my Cabbage Patch Kid and my bike.
But I couldn't upload it so you'll have to settle for a still and take my word for it. 

In other recent news, an American-style beauty pageant was held in Melbourne for toddlers.   This proved to be a controversial event, as I think it should be.  Plenty of parents were against it, while others thought it was a bit of fun their girls could enjoy.  

I'm not against beauty competitions for adults.  I don't understand why anyone would go in them, and I don't think they do women any favours.  But each to their own - if you are crazy enough to want to be judged while wearing a string bikini (why? why??), you're old enough to decide that for yourself.  And the world would probably blow up if all those beauty queens didn't dedicate their reigns to world peace.

But I'm not a fan of these pageants for young children. For me, there is something wrong about lining children up and rewarding the prettiest.  "Sorry you weren't the prettiest this year, try again next time!  Have a nice day!"   And personally, I think pictures like this are just a bit creepy:

Crumpling from the weight of that hair.

Plenty of little girls love to dress up and totter around the house in Mummy's heels. Anyone remember Tinkerbell makeup? I loved playing with that.

But I'm thankful my mother didn't give me a fake tan, a showgirl costume and have me parade in front of judges.  Although at 18 I was asked to enter my town's Miss Showgirl competition - oh if only I had entered, I could have got a sash and everything! But I have to live with this regret... sigh....

Our children are beautiful. Paying a judge to tell us just how beautiful is wrong.

What's your opinion?



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