This Muma Went To Court…

“I sentence you to 10 years imprisonment… Take him down!”
I shit you not, real life judges actually utter those words. Not just the ones off the telly box! Obviously those amongst us that have ever graced a court will be familiar with the Netflix-esq setting and those loaded setentenses which go hand in hand with the slightly overdone wood panelling. 

I on the other hand,I am ‘just a mum’. I’ve never received the golden ticket calling me up for jury duty (as much as I have willed that summons to drop through the letter box – especially in those early years of motherhood. A legitimate break from Mumming? Yella.) I have never been naughty enough to find myself in the goldfish bowl of a dock, and never has it ever occurred to me to exercise my right to witness justice being done, to pop along to our local court and take a pew. 

Until now of course. 

Part of my journalism training is based around court room reporting. Basically learning what you can and can’t write. Pretty crucial as a little slip up could see this muma enjoying a child free break on the inside… (However tempting that might be during my kids’ rabid slagging matches mostly thanks to multiple Sylvanian family custody battles). 

Well I wasn’t going to wait until our class were escorted to a magistrates court for a speeding find or the like. I thought I’d go in big guns: so last week I headed over to Crown Court. 
Bold, right?!

This posed a number of issues; smart clothes were suggested on the website so I dug out my funeral coat and decided that putting on lip gloss was fundamentally ticking that ‘smart’ box. 

The Crown court in our town has been there since the year dot. Wondering if I looked more Crim or barrister I asked the kindly security guards where I might find the ‘menu’ for the days proceedings. (Menu?! This isn’t the sodding Harvester! Why did I say that?! Running order, list, itinerary! Any of those would have better helped mask the blaitnet imposter syndrome plastered all over my face). 
Anyway, I chose a court after being given the options like I was ordering a fry up:

 “Well there’s a murder starting in Court A, a Sexual assault in court B, and if your quick you’ll catch the beginning of the rape trial in C!”
Christ. 
Proper baddies, sorry, alledged baddies, were everywhere. 
On the other side of what can only be described as the BFG’s mahogany double door was one of the most elaborate court room movie sets I’ve ever seen. Men in wigs, dark wood panelling, ladies in wigs, a Judge, capes, and a mahoosive glass dock right in the middle of it all. With an alledged baddie inside.
This is probably the right time to tell you that I love drama. A drama magnet if you will. I love nothing more than ‘information sharing’ with my friends, and getting the inside scoop on anything I can. 
Suddenly here I was, hearing the ultimate secret. 
The usher of the court did give me a slight death stare, but we quickly moved passed that as I asked her 101 questions during the ‘rise’ (when the judge left to hang out in his chamber, how Game of Thrones of him!)



My jaw dropped as the judge summarised this particular man’s crimes (this was a quickie before the main trail of the day, stack ‘m high…) He described how this alledged baddie had injured another so badly that the victim would need care for the rest of his life. How not only had he committed this crime and pleaded guilty (which he got a pat on the back for), he offered no explanation as to why he stabbed another, and showed no remourse. 

The accused just stood there in a hoodie, slouched to one side when the judge asked him to stand for sentencing. How could a fellow human be that evil? 
He had not one member of his family there, not one friend. What must his mother think! 
No one else watched him get sentenced to 10 years inprisonment. I was the only joe bloggs to see him meet his fate that morning.

 

I felt sick. (Point taken that I need to harden up before I take to the press bench!). 
I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Or ears. 
I watch endless crime programs, a good court room drama is always a particular favourite of mine. But this was real life. I wasn’t wrapped up in my blankly with my old slippers on the sofa. This baddie’s next 10 years was being served up right in front of me.
I did spot the judge notice my astonishment. I have been blessed (?!?) with THE most expressive of faces. 

Nothing is hidden amongst my fine lines and acne scars. Which is a major problem when playing poker. Or in court… 
As fast as he was taken down (literally, they took him down the stairs in the dock!) and the barristers switched over it was time for another. In walked the next one. Up to the dock he went. And another after him. 
It occurred to me that I wouldn’t be hard pressed to find a story in these parts.  
I saw a jury sworn in. They looked just like the jury from broadchurch. How realistic I thought!

***

The school playground that afternoon felt like willy wonker’s chocolate factory by comparison. 
Fluffy marsh mellows floated past as innocent giggles wafted by. 
And then the toddler daughter started to demand a third snack whilst we waited in the drizzle, and cried when I couldn’t produce a rabbit out of a hat. My school daughter cried becasue it was ballet day for toddler daughter. Toddler daughter didn’t want to go to ballet either.
 I put on my best judge voice, and marched them up the road – still in my funeral coat. 
I went back for more the following day. .


“Did you eat popcorn there Muma?”

“No darling, I barely breathed”

Bag porn* Fantasy shopping

AUTUMN HAS LANDED! *Cartwheels around the room*

So my secrets out, as much as I love the Summer – and I really do, I have a secret love burning deep inside for Autumn. Do you know why? I have an addiction to coats, boots, and bags. Basically outerwear! So I am eyeing up my old faithful boots, my beloved coats and big wintry hard core leather bags while it rains for the first time in like, a gazillion days.

With this obsession now at the forefront of my mind I thought it might be fun to trawl the internet and share one of my favourite pass times with you:

Behold the autumnal essentials ‘Add to Cart’ game. (Rightmove & fantasy holiday shopping being a close 2nd / 3rd)

First up is…

Coats: 

(I included the links, y’know for just in case…££ )

  1. The school run, cover ya bum, no harm done jobby and laugh in the face of a full on deluge, January style.
    school-run-coat
    Mango, £139.99

     

  2. The oh-my-god I need this in my life NOW coat. Ok, so it doesn’t look particularly warm, it doesn’t have more than 2 buttons on it for goodness sake. But my word, leopard conquers all for me right now.
leopard-print-coat
Topshop, £85.00

3. Are you ready for some coat candy. Yeh?! Ok then, here goes… (I mean, we could just cancel Christmas and let the kids stroke the coat right?!)

reiss-coat-porn
Reiss £495.00. *cries*

 

Boots

This is where my fantasy ‘Add to Cart’ game is a wonder because let’s face it – boot shopping can be hell; Especially with my pint sized assistants in tow. In one tantrum they can zap all of the fun out of my favourite sport. Life can be cruel.

  1. I have been searching for the perfect Chelsea boot (like y’do) for an age. I think I may have finally found it this season… sigh.
aldo-boot
Aldo, £90.00

2. Now, my husband would utter that this next beauty is the same as the Chelsea above – Good grief how wrong could he be!

Well, an elegant western, who knew!

office-westerns
Office, £80.00

 

3. Who doesn’t love a black knee high. A staple… ok I don’t actually own a pair YET. But I have been a good girl this year Santa…

black-knee-high
Kurt Geiger, £210.00 (gulp: ok, a VERY good girl this year…!)

And lastly, can we all have a good laugh at these please?! Think of the rain, how would we jump in muddy puddles?!! Topshop, how could you? *Shakes head, folds arms*

furry-boots
Topshop £69.00 – please don’t use this link! Lol!

Bags… 

I can not forget my favourite of all the outerwear garments: THE BAG. Here are my 3 faves for Autumnal-bliss. I’ll go in price order here…

  1. A throw it all in delight – Mmmmm with those black knee highs… I might add that it also has a long strap. Totally dressing it down: 2 bags in 1, so actually only about £44.50 per look. BARGAIN.
kurt-geieger-bag
Kurt Geiger, £89.00

2. Swoon* Grey, my one true love. and isn’t she pretty…

aldo-bag
Aldo, £50.00

3. You know how I mentioned that this was a FANTASY cart, well here’s the fantasy:

PRADA DOUBLE BAG - 1BG775_2EVL_F0002_V_OOO
Prada, Darling, £2,980

See, I wasn’t going to let you down. This right here is a proper bit of bag porn Mumas. We like? We likey a lot? And how practical is it I hear you ask… wipe clean, check. Room for wet wipes & nappies? Check! This is totally Muma proof. There’s just the teensy tiny question of the price tag. ” Cha ching cha ching… ”

So there you have it: my Autumnal round up.

Now I’m off to get back into my Primark jeans before I hit the nursery run. Keeping it real chicks, keeping this shizzle real.

Let me know what you think…

Life Love and Dirty Dishes

 

DomesticatedMomster
Pink Pear Bear

Burkini, Bikini. Potato, potarto.

I’m sorry, have I missed something here…?

How on earth is wearing a Burikini a threat to national security?!

I have just been frankly stunned to read that French police in Cannes ordered a woman who was asleep on the Promanade des Anglais beach, wearing a Burkini, to strip down or risk being pepper sprayed. Has the world gone mad?

If you haven’t ever seen anyone wearing a Burkini in the real let me explain – it is basically a wet suit with a mid thigh length over dress which also covers their head.

Have you ever felt threatened by someone wearing leggings and a tunic with a hat on whilst standing in the Tesco queue? Me neither… so why on earth as soon as the sand and sea is involved everyone starts freaking out over this level of cover up?

Woman must strip to wear bikinis on the beach? p*ss off.

It has baffled me, and left me feeling pretty bloody sad actually.

The French are saying that the Burkini causes offence, so boobs and g-strings are totally fine on the beach, but my god if someone should dare cover themselves up in the name of their religion they shall be prosecuted. More like persecuted.

This summer we went to a very crowded indoor swimming pool complete with slides, waves, verruca’s. You know the sort of place. There were maybe 20 girls and women wearing Burkinis. We were all in very close proximity (think packed lift) so I got a really good look at the ensembles. Did I feel threatened by these woman playing with their children whilst covered up? NO. Did I at any time feel offended that they chose to cover up their bodies? NO. Was I slightly envious that they didn’t have their wobbly bits on show like I did? YES!

So are the French simply penalising these woman to make a stand against the Muslim communities in the wake of the terrible Bastille terrorist attack earlier this summer? Woman who are on a beach minding their own business with their families, but have just choosen not to show their bits off and cover their heads? Shall we also ban sarongs and hats too then?

Seriously, this has gone too far now. Drawing a line in the sand like this is surely going to push Muslim communities away, making more of a divide, sending the message to anyone not able to question the ridiculousness of this ruling, that Muslims are not welcome. Way to go France.

Do you know what’s even sadder than a woman being fined for wearing a long sleeved top and a head scarf? Not one person came to this lady’s aid on the beach. The pictures just show open mouthed on lookers, no one came to her defence. She was a middle aged woman on her own surrounded by 4 police officers, being humiliated and striped in public.

I’m off to the beach today, I’ll be wearing a hat and maybe even a long sleeved top as I burnt my arms yesterday (oh balmy blighty!) I’m not expecting anyone to site me a terror threat, or for the police to approach me and ask me to strip.

There’s got to be a better way to patrol your beaches France, come on. Think outside the box a bit. Making laws that are both racist and sexist is never going to end well. Stop dividing your country and targeting these Mumas. You are embarrassing yourselves.

Growing down for a day

“You do know Muma is just a girl who grew up”
Imparting these words to Darcie has been somewhat of an eye opener for her.
“No you aren’t”, came her reply. Visibly shocked, face all screwed up- eyebrows almost at her hairline and I’m sure the words ‘Old Troll’ were dying to escape her.
It never occurred to me that in Darcie’s eyes I have been forever old.
Being ‘old’ is quite a tiring label really: responsibilities weigh heavy on my shoulders as the day to day task of keeping our girls alive mainly boils down to moi. Just keeping the peace between them is like a military operation and reasoning with an exhausted 5 year old post school is a real edge pusher. It’s enough to see me heading for a cheeky aperitif at 4pm.
But I am not just a Muma, I am a daughter and a sister too; sometimes it’s hard to juggle all of my hats, and not neglect those who were once the only ones I called family- long before the crazy world of parenthood took over the care free please yourself equilibrium.
Last week I escaped domestic bliss life, and went to London to spend some time with my sisters and my step Muma, before the eldest younger sister up sticks and emigrates to Hong Kong on a pretty impressive career path. We rarely get a chance to just have a conversation without a toddler hanging from one of us, usually upside down whilst making aeroplane noises. It’s hard enough to keep up with their 20-something lives, without having to performing some kind of aerobics while I try and grasp the bones of their latest promotion.

Swanky Swoo
The chance to ‘grow-down’ for a day was, frankly, bloody marvellous. To have a day when I have my sister / daughter hat on is a rare treat. We saw the incredible Sheridan Smith performing in Funny Girl at the Savoy Theatre, if you are into your musicals then this one is a classic. We over indulged in a totally OTT afternoon tea, complete with pink champers (no Lidl prosecco for us that day…) at the fabulous Sketch, just off of Regents street. It was super swanky, no ball pit or foam rollers in sight: fish out of water here. We sat on the dusky pink velvet uber-cool non-sharpied-on sofas and chatted, with no interruptions. Well, apart from the rather delicious waiter offering free replenishment’s of sandwiches, cakes and scones… I could get used to this: If it hadn’t cost my entire weeks shopping allowance.

Boys Boys Boys…

I made a pretty huge realisation whilst gallivanting about London. And no, it’s not a corny and cheesy family epiphany at all. Quite the opposite: it’s more a gritty, FE-MALE realisation…

We sat down for a quick coffee before the day’s proceedings got going. Conversation was happening but my eyes were darting all over the place, then it dawned on me why;
I was getting redder and redder by the second as I realised this was the first time in years that I had seen so many men in one room. It hadn’t ever really occurred to me before now, that my life is so female heavy!
Christ, Men still exist!

I was seeing men, blokes, guys, MALES all around us. (Sadly I don’t mean we were a honey pot for these suited and booted boys, we just so happened to be near the counter and so as position would have it, we were, in fact; Surrounded!)
Apart from the odd Dad in the playground and of course, my Hubster… I live in ‘girl domination’!
We have 2 girls, their friends are all girls, I socialise with other Mumas.
I don’t go out to work so really do not have any contact with the Male of the species anymore. It has taken me 5 years to realise this, so clearly I don’t feel there is a huge empty testosterone shaped hole in my life. It’s just strange that after years of working alongside men, in male dominated offices, I really have very little to do with half of the country’s population!
As suit after suit wandered in for their caffeine fix, little did they know this Muma was getting a little fix all of her own…
Ok, I’ll get off of my smutty, pheromone high horse, back to business: The Famalam.

I guess what I’m trying to say is if you are lucky enough to be a sister or a daughter, and you actually enjoy their company, then go hang out with your original tribe: Grow down for a day, shed the responsibility of your rug rats and belly laugh with your circle.
It’s oh so good for the soul.

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Jennifer, you legend.

At last: She has spoken.

Jennifer. Jen. Rachel has come right out and said what has been on the tip of the tongues of so many successful woman in the spotlight who just so happen to be outright awesome without *whispers* Being a Mother. Shock horror.

I love Jen’s article, it’s honest, thought provoking and kicks some serious female butt. Read it in full here.

Here are my highlights:

“…This past month in particular has illuminated for me how much we define a woman’s value based on her marital and maternal status…Here’s where I come out on this topic: we are complete with or without a mate, with or without a child…We don’t need to be married or mothers to be complete. We get to determine our own “happily ever after” for ourselves.”

It’s a crying shame that Theresa May couldn’t produce a similar response to Andrea Leasom’s ghastly attempt to get the edge over her opponent this weekend, based on her reproduction ‘achievements’.

I seem to remember a time right after school, probably through to my mid-20’s when a pregnancy was announced it was an ‘OH MY GOD THEY’RE PREGNANT’ moment. We seemed too young to have babies and it was almost a scandal that you would dare to reproduce. I’m now the other side of that (weeps), and this other side is worse. Much worse. Because this other side questions why a woman may not have borne a crying sh*tting machine yet.

Why is this? Why do we as a society, pivot a female’s success around the presence of a child? I feel lucky, not successful, to have 2 children. I certainly wouldn’t measure my success or suitability for a job based on the fact that I have children.

I wonder if Jenifer Aniston’s words will actually hit home to the Paparazzi and magazine bosses? (who might actually be fully grown women without children! IMAGINE!).

 Sadly I think her statement will fall on deaf ears. Inevitably, lining the newsagent’s shelves will continue be glossy post-lunch stomachs belonging to the A-Z listers, complete with speculation over the presence of a bambino within.

All the while we keep buying the Mags or sharing the articles and spreading the hype, they will keep dishing it.

It’s pretty sad when you think about it.

It’s a big day for Women today, a great day. Our 2nd female Prime Minister EVER will take up the reins and is set to be appointing top cabinet roles to some fabulous women. I know their gender is neither here nor there as long as they are the right people for the jobs, but I can’t help doing a little fist pump for Girl Power today.

Mummuddlingthrough

Is Facebook becoming Toxic?

This is the very question that I have had on repeat for a while, but it’s been flashing in neon since the debacle which was the EU Referendum. (*shudders* just saying that phrase again…)

I’ve known for some time that I have an addiction to social media; It’s the last thing I will check at night, and the first thing I will check when I wake up (albeit through 1 eye!). I belong to a tonne of parenting groups from all over the world, follow my favourite bloggers, and have my chosen news channels on my ‘news feed’. All ready to bring the latest from the big wide world to my social media platform of choice. Behold The Facebook.
More importantly on Facebook are my friends, friends I have made at all different stages of my life, all clumped together sharing their highs and lows via Likes, Comments and statuses. When Facebook is good, it’s very very good: think wedding photo stalking, school reunion pages, birth announcements, holiday snaps, you know the drill. But when it’s bad its damn right Toxic.
We know SO much about other people’s lives, like it or not. And I LOVE it. I’m nosey by nature, being a fly on the wall through people’s lives is a bit of a dream come true; Thank you Mark Zuckerberg!!
But there is a dark side to Facebook;

A world where opinions and statements are banded around all safely behind the shield of a computer screen. Things are said which would never be said face to face. A screen is a buffer protecting those keyboard warriors. And yes, I am one of them – but learning the hard way to hold my… fingers.
I have seen families torn apart and friendship groups divide over a snide comment here, a controversial article share there, an outright offensive status elsewhere. And let me tell you I have seen some SHOCKERS. Some proper laundry airing shizzle, and we all have a front row ticket.
Facebook can be Toxic, and we play right into its hands.
It’s the perfect vehicle for making others feel uncomfortable, not least because it’s so public. The ‘fishing’ statuses are the ones that really get me. Those statuses which are implying that someone on facebook is responsible for their plight, but they don’t have the guts to confront them so instead issue a ‘Woe is me’ status. A call to arms for those paranoid friends to comment as quickly as their iphones will allow, sending sympathy. Is it sympathy or some sort of paranoid knee jerk reaction though?
It sort of goes a bit like this:
{Infill attention-seeking DULL ‘they are all bi*ches, my life sucks’ type status here}

Cue concerned / guilty ‘friend’ (delete as appropriate)
“This status can’t be about ME…??”

*5 secs later*
“Hmmmm, maybe this is all about ME?…”
*5 secs more – scanning memory*
“I don’t remember pissing her/ him off (let’s face it, it’s almost always a her) ”
*decision time*
“I better comment to keep face and show solidarity” *mentally thumps chest and high fives The Fisher.*
Urgh.
The medal for the most toxic place I have ever come across on Facebook has to go to our town’s ‘Notice board’ page. Does any other town have these?! If you are unsure what I’m referring to, let me enlighten you: The Notice Board was originally set up for people to post about events happening in the town, or enquiries about clubs – you know the sort of thing.
But Enter at your Peril. It is so abusive that if you were to join this group prior to moving to our quiet seaside town you would almost certainly reconsider. It takes good old fashioned slagging to a whole new level. I have seen people be quite literally destroyed publicly on this page. There is always someone ready pounce putting a controversial spin on even the most boring of enquiries. The EU referendum saw it turn into a battleground of Ins V’s Outs. A daily slagging between the 2 sides, only pausing to sleep and reload on the insults that were being banded around so vindictively. *Cringe*
It’s sad that it is becoming the underbelly of our society. Seemingly bringing out the worst in people, all packaged up with a neat little blue logo. As my wonderful friend over at Bean Musing  says,
“There is freedom of speech, and then there is being a tw*t” Nail.on.head. (Go check out her blog!)
Do you know what though, despite ALL of that, I can’t bring myself to delete my account. YET. At the moment the pro’s of keeping in touch with friends, family and the world at large outweigh those cons.

But only just… I guess I’ll just have to suck it up.
I’d love to know if I’m the only one that has a love / hate relationship with Facebook?

Best of Worst

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Secrets of a Reception Veteran.

I’ve done the time..

Darcie and I began ‘big school’ last year. We were rookie novices back then; eyes wide, shoes polished (her) make up always on (me) all ready and uncreased for every drop-off. Well my friends, times have changed, let me tell you. We are now old hands, reception veterans, if you will. And, as we are coming to the dying days of the summer term I am getting ready to pass the Newbie baton on to those unsuspecting preschoolers.

As part of this reception graduation I’ve compiled a list of my 10 essentials every Muma needs when entering the murky world of BIG SCHOOL…


The first 5

1) Sharpie Marker pen

Yes, I did it too: ordered meters and meters of fabric and Iron on name tape. Of course when I was getting ebay-happy with my order I never once stopped to consider that I have never sewn anything in my life (the frog in yr 4 doesn’t count). I was trying to be The Perfect Muma. How I intended to sew on a name tape to every pinafore, polo shirt, jumper, PE kit, and apparently pants and socks too, I’ll never know! But I didn’t sweat the small stuff. Surely these Muma skills arrive with the name tapes. They didn’t and the result  wasn’t pretty. Don’t fall for the ‘easy’ iron-on variety either. They peel, burn a bit and don’t survive the spin cycle. You heard it here first!

So step away from the bastard name tapes. This is all you need:

It’s Sharpie to the rescue.

2) Costume design degree

As you can tell from the above point, I am not a dab hand with a needle and thread. However you are about to enter a 10 month stretch of your life when you will be regularly challenged, often at short notice (that’s their favourite) to make some sort of costume. And of course ‘the children’ get a prize for the best one. What the actual F?! I sat up and safety pin a costume together while dream boat sleeps on and SHE gets the prize. Ok then…

I made an entire angel costume using just safety pins for the oh-so-sweet Nativity: thank you very much.

Please Note: World Book Day is the biggie, this is the Met Ball of the Primary school world. Big prizes are at stake here. Do not be fooled by any facebook chit chat which might suggest Jimmy’s Muma is just ‘throwing something together last minute’. NO SHE AIN’T. You know the story about the shoe maker’s elves… uh huh.

Find out the date your school is showcasing it’s World Book Catwalk and get over to ebay or Amazon pronto. (Unless of course you are blessed with talents like my amazing friend Holly at Oh Sew Dinky check her page out!)

3) Sunglasses

I’m not sure how to break this to you, but you’re going to cry. Possibly within the first few minutes of meeting the parents you are about to share 7 years’ worth of school runs with. Actually it took me a couple of weeks to shed a tear. I may have been in a euphoric state at first, as a result of relinquishing control of our little girl who was by all accounts a teensy bit of a handful: something along the lines of GOOD LUCK MISS SCOTT. After a couple of weeks it dawned on Darcie that this school gig was pretty repetitive and showed no signs of fading away. It made her bottom lip tremble, her face screw up and big tears fell from both of our eyes as we realised we would be saying goodbye at the same time everyday for a very very long time.

Anyway as luck would have it I was caught completely off guard no sunglasses- or my toddler to hide behind. I had to walk through the playground, thankfully flanked by my Muma Squad, sobbing. Save yourselves the ugly cry face, take sunglasses, ALL TERM!

4) Patience

This is a bit of a tricky one as you can’t just ‘add to basket’. Particularly for someone like me who lacks patience with ya know – most things. So this is an important one to practice over the summer hols: your patient face.


Here is mine. What do you think? You’d never know that inside I’m screaming any of the following,

“It says RAT EFFING NAPS not MOUSE SLEEPS. Please, for the love of god attempt to sound out the words before I loose the will to live”

Or

“I have marker penned several 4 letter words across your forehead with my eyes and If I have to listen to you harp on about how little Zachariah is far too clever for the class or that little flossychops is just plain bored due to her natural level of intellect I will reach for the Sharpie. And I will not be accountable for my actions.

5) Flexibility

I’m not talking leg above your head stuff, it’s trickier than that. I’m talking diaries.  All of a sudden one of 20 Parentmail emails will hit the inbox inviting us to attend a once in a lifetime rendition of Jack and the Beanstalk, or a ‘recital’ (in the loosest sense of the word) of various shaky hitty noisy instruments. Of course you don’t want to miss such delights. It’s a drop everything situation. An understanding boss / Toddler / friends and family is what’s required here.

So Reception sounds super fun right? Bet you can’t wait…!!

Ideas welcome for the final 5 items…post in the comments below pretty please x

Mummascribbles</div

Mummuddlingthrough

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