One Good Deed…

…deserves 39 more. Or is that one good turn? Whatever.

I like this idea from PamieJane to celebrate her 40th birthday and I’d encourage others to join in and do their bit as I will on Saturday.

What I want to do is 40 random acts of kindness (or good deeds).  Now I know for a fact that I am not going to get through all 40 in one day, so I have taken Friday off work, but I am going to need more help – that is where you come in.

I would like each of you to do something “good” on Saturday.  It does not have to be huge, it can be not swearing at the person that cut you off in traffic (or not cutting someone off – I’ll take any good deed).  It can be making a donation to your favourite charity, picking up a piece of litter, helping somebody pick up something they have dropped or even just smiling at somebody.  Just something that is going to make somebody else feel better.

She has other ideas on her blog, so go and see if there’s something you can do to help someone else out and help Pamie celebrate her 40th.

Feel free to RT/Share this post and spread the love.

And Happy Birthday, PamieJane.
You know what they say: Life Begins To Suck At Forty. 😉

Village population grows

Damn. While I disappear off 6,137 miles from civilisation, little Mrs Ordinary Life pops her sprog.
Obviously, we knew that this was coming, but we weren’t absolutely sure when.

But just as dawn was breaking, things happened.
And those things were announced to the world just 1 hour and 59 minutes later:

Kaylin Elizabeth born at 5.50 am!

This, of course, is what little children do. They mess with your inner clock. They tug on your internal hour hand. Without the intervention of modern science, you can be assured that babies will be born in the early hours of the morning or during the penalty shootout at the end of a really exciting FA Cup semi-final replay.

It is great training for the months and – dare I say years? (yes, I dare) – years that follow.  At no point in its first 5 years of life does a child wake up, check the clock (and for clock, read presence of daylight) and think “Hmm – maybe it’s still a bit early. I’ll turn over and go back to sleep”.

No. They wander into your room and demand entertainment and food. And if they are too young to wander into your room, they stay where they are and demand entertainment and food. Each night, we line the route between Alex’s room and ours with rusks. Our landing is now an Ouminefield. (Note: that joke only works if you’re South African and you have consumed a bottle of red wine before reading it, sorry).

But no. In he comes and before I know it, Handy Manny and his seven trusty tools are singing their half-English, half-Spanish songs about fixing Mrs Portillo’s stove while the boy spreads crumbs across the bed. So I head to the kitchen in search of coffee and end up crunching a roomful of breakfast biscuits down the stairs. And then people wonder why I’m grumpy in the mornings.

These are the challenges that Mr & Mrs Ordinary Life have to face in the coming years. They are fortunate to have me doing reccies for them 4 and 1½ years ahead. Indeed, the only bad news for them is that I will be telling the truth.

But for the moment, many congratulations to Pammie and her husband.
And welcome Kaylin Elizabeth.

I told you it was going to be a boy.

Village population set to rise

Just a quickie – some fantastic news has just come in from the pretty seaside village of Port Elizabeth, population 18 (+3 goats) that Ironman Pammie Jane is up the duff, in the club, renting out the guest room and has a metaphorical bun in the oven. All at once.

Yes, despite my desperate attempts to put her off parenthood, mainly by truthfully describing my experiences of er… parenthood, Mr and Mrs Ordinary Life have embarked on a journey which was once described to us as “completely life-changing”. Oh yes. That one falls neatly into the category of “a bit of an understatement”.

Never mind, eh? Many congratulations from all here chez 6000.

Have a drink on us. (Oh no – you can’t now, can you?)