Yesterday mid to late morning I received a call from a friend: 'We're having an early lunch at the café down the road from you, come join us! Ten minutes!'
Oh how lovely, sez I and rush around collecting keys, phone, money, put the fire-guard in front of the fire (yup, still not warm enough to let the fire die out), lock the back door, jump into the car, look at the clock and think: 'What a cinch, I'll easily make it in ten minutes.'
Something felt funny though and I looked down at myself to find...
...I was still wearing my pyjamas!
Aaagh!
(The weather is so bad and drying clothes so difficult that I've been staying in pjs until all the chores are done, as its easier to launder them than jeans or tracksuit pants, and cleaning out the fire etc gets pretty mucky.)
So I leapt out of the car, rushed into the house to dress and comb hair and then got caught behind a four-miles-a-fortnighter at the end of the lane. I was only five minutes late though, which, considering the circumstances was pretty amazing of me, don't you think?
Friday, 14 August 2015
Wednesday, 5 August 2015
Things My Mother Never Told Me...
...but I probably should have realised?
Children only seem to move out. When you least expect it, up they pop.
They may pack their 'stuff', empty their room (and the fridge and the kitchen utensils drawers and the bathroom toiletries), say 'bye' most cheerfully and you think 'ah! the place to myself' till mid-term/ Easter/ Christmas/ or whatever, put up your feet, get out all the books you have hidden to read in peace...and a week or so later they text 'c u @ wknd'.
I have to say that one good thing about my girls is that they seldom bring their laundry since my drying facilities are along the lines of the Widow Twankey's, i.e. draped round the kitchen, but they waltz in with comments like:
Where's the spare towels? why d'you move them?
Can you just run me into town to see...and I'll call you when I want collecting...taxis out to your place are so dear, you know that.
Where's the bread I left in the freezer? She ate it? Huh!
Have you no biscuits?
Where's the second book of that trilogy you were reading? Can you finish it please by tomorrow as I was really hoping to take them with me?
Did you move my shampoo? No I didn't take it (frantic rummage)...oh maybe I did.
I can't find the muffin pan...she took it? Well she shouldn't have as it was yours and anyhow I wanted to take it back with me.
I can't find your black cardigan, I'll take your red one it'll do and your black shoes, you won't be needing them til after Christmas. (which Christmas?)
And I need a spare duvet cover and some pillowcases as I've friends coming to visit...
You get the drift right?
And then I think of all the parents who would love their children to visit.
And then I look at my depleted wardrobe and wonder why I only ever have the really tatty clothes left...
...and the depleted fridge...bathroom...linen press...and I haven't even catalogued the sewing notions which have disappeared...
I am grateful, really, I love 'em...but I'm still waiting for that empty nest syndrome 'they' speak of, its more like overflowing borrow syndrome around here!
Is 'no' a real word?
Children only seem to move out. When you least expect it, up they pop.
They may pack their 'stuff', empty their room (and the fridge and the kitchen utensils drawers and the bathroom toiletries), say 'bye' most cheerfully and you think 'ah! the place to myself' till mid-term/ Easter/ Christmas/ or whatever, put up your feet, get out all the books you have hidden to read in peace...and a week or so later they text 'c u @ wknd'.
I have to say that one good thing about my girls is that they seldom bring their laundry since my drying facilities are along the lines of the Widow Twankey's, i.e. draped round the kitchen, but they waltz in with comments like:
Where's the spare towels? why d'you move them?
Can you just run me into town to see...and I'll call you when I want collecting...taxis out to your place are so dear, you know that.
Where's the bread I left in the freezer? She ate it? Huh!
Have you no biscuits?
Where's the second book of that trilogy you were reading? Can you finish it please by tomorrow as I was really hoping to take them with me?
Did you move my shampoo? No I didn't take it (frantic rummage)...oh maybe I did.
I can't find the muffin pan...she took it? Well she shouldn't have as it was yours and anyhow I wanted to take it back with me.
I can't find your black cardigan, I'll take your red one it'll do and your black shoes, you won't be needing them til after Christmas. (which Christmas?)
And I need a spare duvet cover and some pillowcases as I've friends coming to visit...
You get the drift right?
And then I think of all the parents who would love their children to visit.
And then I look at my depleted wardrobe and wonder why I only ever have the really tatty clothes left...
...and the depleted fridge...bathroom...linen press...and I haven't even catalogued the sewing notions which have disappeared...
I am grateful, really, I love 'em...but I'm still waiting for that empty nest syndrome 'they' speak of, its more like overflowing borrow syndrome around here!
Is 'no' a real word?
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