Pollyanna Takes A Hike

I have noticed that since I stopped taking the happy pills that my patience has diminished - just a little. I rant a little more, I get bugged a little more. Is this a good thing? I think so.

Consequently there has been less of a Pollyanna feel to Nelly's Garden. It's good to have somewhere to have a bit of a rant occasionally. But never fear, for Nelly is by nature an optimist (don't see the point in pessimism), and the Garden is not to become a bed of thistles, nettles and poison ivy.

But as I said it's good to have somewhere to have a whinge as Bert's ears do get tired.

So the moan of the moment is, naturally, work-related. These are the words I hate to hear. "Can you give me a call in the morning?"

Excuse me? Are you by any chance mistaking me for your mother?

When I was young and lived in the parental home my mother's entire morning was taken up making breakfast, inspecting ears and necks. untangling hair and trying to get the older ones (including me) out of bed. I can hardly believe she kept her sanity throughout that time. I vowed that when I had kids that I wouldn't go through that performance and that's how it worked out. One, maximum, two calls and after that it was up to them. In fact I must confess that by the time they were old enough to shake cornflakes into a bowl I pretty much left them to it. Now some might call this neglect and I'll not deny that but it was mild neglect and it turned them into the resilient, punctual, organised early-risers that they are today.

"Can you give me a call in the morning?"
"Haven't you got an alarm
clock?"
"I never hear it 0r if I do I turn it off."
"Can't you get a
louder one?"
"I'd never hear it. I need someone to come into my room and
give me a shake."

Huh! The only way you're going to get me to do that dear is if I can follow up the shake with a bucket of icy water.