<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4478989673164323202</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:45:18.606+01:00</updated><category term='Walking'/><category term='Playground Mafia'/><category term='School'/><category term='Blogging'/><title type='text'>Organised is Overrated</title><subtitle type='html'>Music-loving, procrastinating mother of three. 41 years old but not yet ready to be middle-aged. Welcome to my world...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4478989673164323202/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Julie Midas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07294134478899163001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t266/juliemidas/shadow1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4478989673164323202.post-8155400840404646802</id><published>2008-02-23T22:25:00.010Z</published><updated>2009-02-18T18:03:55.380Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Playground Mafia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Walking'/><title type='text'>Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt</title><content type='html'>Tuesday morning brought one of the thickest frosts I'd seen in a while. Walking to school, the pavements glittered and whilst G enjoyed the fun of skidding and sliding, D clung tightly to my hand, fearful of falling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our walk to school is normally an uneventful affair.  If it's rained enough, the fields and the park by the river might be flooded. This happens often enough not to be a real novelty. In the spring, there are sometimes ducklings and cygnets on the river; sometimes the barriers on the level crossing get stuck in the down position, causing traffic chaos.  On Tuesday, however, there was an unprecedented mini-drama.  A bare-footed man of dishevelled appearance: no coat, wild-eyed, blood pouring from one of his arms, leaned over the church wall and mumbled incoherently into a mobile phone.  An ambulance stood nearby, together with two disgruntled looking paramedics and a policeman, deftly stepping between the man and any passers-by. At the school, the playground mafia bubbled with excitement. Children installed in their classrooms, a huddle formed by the school gates and speculation was rife...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I digress. It was frosty, I dropped G and D at school and, not being a fully paid-up member of the school gate gossip brigade, I went on my way.  I planned to go for a long, brisk walk before going home but my bladder, full of morning orange juice and coffee, was beginning to protest. I decided to nip into the health centre to make use of their facilities. Huge mistake! I stepped out of the health centre onto a patch of ice, felt my ankle twist, a sharp pain and I landed in an undignified heap on the ground.  The utter humiliation, combined with the fact that it really did hurt (a lot) made me feel like throwing my head back and bawling loudly! I managed to hold back the tears whilst a couple of concerned mums from the school offered their sympathies but as I hobbled away, I gave in and begin to snivel. &lt;i&gt;(I should like to make it clear at this point that I don't normally consider myself a wimp when it comes to pain; I gave birth to my two younger children without so much as a whiff of gas and air.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few steps down the road, I realised I was getting nowhere fast and didn't fancy my chances of getting home, let alone going back to pick up G and D from school. I also have to drive to collect J from his school on Tuesdays; he has a guitar lesson and hasn't yet perfected the art of cycling with a guitar &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; an industrial-sized school bag. I couldn't flex my right foot at all, I had no chance. I was beginning to feel sick and dizzy.  I rang Cam and sobbed pathetically down the phone! Cam agreed to pick me up but getting back from Birmingham would take some time. I sat on a wall by the pub and waited. With my tear-streaked face and the fact that I was sitting outside the pub, shivering uncontrollably at 9.15 in the morning, I definitely looked like a desperate case.  Almost as bad as the man by the church.  I don't think I was spotted by any of the playground gossip brigade, but if I was, it undoubtedly stopped them talking about someone else for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, nothing is broken and though my ankle is still pretty swollen, I can drive and can get around, albeit with a rather unattractive limp. Brisk walks are off the agenda for the foreseeable future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt - We Are Scientists  (With Love and Squalor, 2005)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4478989673164323202-8155400840404646802?l=organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com/feeds/8155400840404646802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4478989673164323202&amp;postID=8155400840404646802' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4478989673164323202/posts/default/8155400840404646802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4478989673164323202/posts/default/8155400840404646802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com/2008/02/nobody-move-nobody-gets-hurt.html' title='Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt'/><author><name>Julie Midas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07294134478899163001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t266/juliemidas/shadow1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4478989673164323202.post-7919135765002564265</id><published>2008-02-14T22:30:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-02-14T22:45:51.694Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blogging'/><title type='text'>Start Over</title><content type='html'>Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome to my new blog. It's been so long now since I updated my &lt;a href="http://mylifesariot.blogspot.com/"&gt; old blog&lt;/a&gt; that I really feel the need to draw a line and start afresh. I don't intend to do all the introductions again but if you want to know a little more about me, &lt;a href="http://mylifesariot.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html"&gt;look here&lt;/a&gt;. We're all two years older but, other than that, everything's pretty much the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, new blog, new template, new start.  I'm not making any rash promises about updating daily but I hope to check in at least a couple of times a week. Until next time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ry_fR5H1GYw&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xd6d6d6&amp;color2=0xf0f0f0&amp;border=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ry_fR5H1GYw&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0xd6d6d6&amp;color2=0xf0f0f0&amp;border=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Start Over - One Night Only (Started a Fire, 2008)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4478989673164323202-7919135765002564265?l=organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com/feeds/7919135765002564265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4478989673164323202&amp;postID=7919135765002564265' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4478989673164323202/posts/default/7919135765002564265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4478989673164323202/posts/default/7919135765002564265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://organisedisoverrated.blogspot.com/2008/02/test-post.html' title='Start Over'/><author><name>Julie Midas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07294134478899163001</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i162.photobucket.com/albums/t266/juliemidas/shadow1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry></feed>
