A weekend in the life of.....part one

Saturday and I can't believe this unseasonable weather, it's February and I walked round Lewisham in just jeans and a T-shirt yesterday. A woman in Marks said that if this was global warming, she's more than happy. Of course, this upset the woman with the hessian bag and straggly hair but I'm rushing ahead of myself as per usual.

Out early with the dogs who took advantage of the fact that Peckham Rye Common is devoid of other humans and canines and went absolutely barmy. Junior Dog is now bigger than both Middle and Senior but this doesn't prevent Senior Dog from telling him what to do. Half an hour later they all returned to my side in various stages of exhaustion. Home for breakfast and Mac telling me that "I will come shopping with you mummy" - David had suggested that I have a couple of hours to myself so he tried to convince Mac to stay at home. My wilful boy isn't having any of it - he's got the scent of shopping in his nostrils and also the aroma of one of these. David plans to read the paper and "channel hop" while we're gone.

So there we are, me and my boy, which is nice really. Conversations in the car ranged from "how do planes stay in the sky" to lengthy promises that if mummy is trying anything on in any of the shops, he will stay inside the changing room and not whip open the curtain at the crucial moment.

BhS first, nothing took my fancy but I only really like BhS at Christmas when it's full of things that you don't need but really, really want. Like those twee baskets of jam and conserves and a Beers of the World gift pack. Out into the sunshine and into Peacocks where Mac takes an unhealthy interest in the lingerie. "It's all pretty mummy" he says as I whisk him into the slipper section.

Back into the centre via Marks and Spencer where I buy three T-shirts, some socks for Mac and gave into pressure to buy him a pair of Thomas the Tank Engine slippers. I also had a mini panic about what to buy David for Valentines Day and spent an inordinate amount of time in Clinton's Cards trying to decide what mood to go with this year: flirty, serious, arty, romantic, jokey or downright filthy. In the end I get a card with a cat on the front and blank inside for my own message so I can create a mixture of all six. The present was harder and not helped by Mac informing me that he has "helped Daddy" with my present. Is trying to bribe your child into giving you a clue wrong? Yes, I thought it might be.

In the end I went for a Boots/Body Shop combo - aftershave from one and "sensuous"massage oil from the other. Back outside to buy armfuls of flowers - freesias and daffodils - before returning to the juice bar via WH Smiths where I bought this, this and this.

Conversations in the car on the way home included why flowers smell so nice and why shouting "get out of the way you stupid w****r" to a lingering jaywalker is not something that I should a) be proud of and b) tell daddy about.

Lunchtime and then a mooch around with the duster, Flash liquid and hoover and I'm suddenly gripped with the need to open every single window in the house. To air it, naturally. All three dogs huddle in their beds. Mac announces, at ten to three, that he wants to "do something mummy". It takes us until quarter to four to work out that what he wants to do is make something and by five past four we deduce that he would like to make some biscuits. Fortunately, thanks to the fact that I regularly read and generally devour blogs from Kelly and Silvana in the hope that they'll give me inspiration (they do), I have a well stocked "food making cupboard". Thus, at half past I'm putting a clingfilm wrapped ball of biscuit dough into the fridge and Mac has decided that he no longer wants to make biscuits but would far prefer emptying his toy box onto the upstairs landing. He soon put in an appearance when the biscuits were being taken out of the oven, all crumbly and cinnamonny. Yum.

Steak and jacket tatties for dinner, with salad AND croutons. A peaceful bathtime (as opposed to Friday night when Mac wanted to play "boats" just as the last of the water headed down the plughole and whined when I refused to refill the bath), a quick read of his new book and my son and heir was asleep faster than I could say "penguins". No win on the Lottery, not even one number. David announced that, as Mac has had quite a "girly" day today - he's not a chauvinist but worries slightly when Mac takes interest in "shopping, baking and polishing", they are having a "manly" day tomorrow. He's not quite sure yet what that will entail but watching football features quite heavily. Now, there's a surprise!

Weighty issues

Bea rang just as Peter Kay was finishing on Channel 4. David handed the phone to me without a word and I said the fateful words "Hi Bea, what's up?"

"We have just been thrown out of Weight Watchers. Asked to leave. Physically escorted from the community centre. Banned from coming back. Ever. Enormous Au Pair has not lost a single pound. Oh I knew something was up when she claimed period pains last week and a bad head cold the week before. She's put on seven and a half pounds. In a fortnight."

"I have never been so ashamed in all my life. Mrs Carter-Smythe's Lady That Does was there and will no doubt report back. EAP had not only put on seven and a half pounds she damn well nearly broke the scales as she lumbered onto them. When the Caring Group Leader informed her that she'd put weight on, her face took on this repulsed look, you know, the look you reserve for a can of tuna. Then EAP lolloped back to the seat where I was cowering, dived into my bag and came out with a six pack of Kit Kats."

"I didn't know where to put myself, but the look of pure horror on all of the faces was enough to propel me off my seat. The ungrateful wench must have sneaked them into my bag when we were paying for petrol. I certainly didn't buy them and certainly didn't pay for them so now I'm a thief as well and won't be able to show my face at the Jet garage ever again. Caring Group Leader was looking physically repulsed as EAP shovelled wafer biscuit into her greedy grasping mouth. It was then that we were asked to leave and the Building Caretaker was called. He took one look at EAP and nearly turned the water hoses on us. I am absolutely furious! Do you know what she did when we were at the traffic lights by Spyros' Place? Had the audacity and bare faced cheek to ask me to pull over so she could get a large doner and chips! I am absolutely livid and am thinking about taking her to Harley Street, something's not right obviously, when someone can eat a six pack of Kit Kats in seven minutes flat?"

The dialling tone was sounding in my ear for a few seconds before I realised she'd hung up. I wasn't too concerned: my role in these one sided conversations is to listen and to ensure that she's actually hung up and not just pausing for breath before I click on the "end call" button.

Planning and Porpoises

I’m known for my planning. For getting everything sorted out and everything on track. All at the same time. Shall I explain? Don and Lorna arrive in London on the evening of 1 March which just happens to be the day of Mac’s fourth birthday. I know this for a fact because I was there for the inaugural one. Mac is fully expecting that I top, surpass and generally out-do the wonderful birthday outing he had last year and he is so certain of this, he’s not giving me any clues as to what he’d like to do. Whatever he does, he wants to do it with the full complement of friends and family. I’ve taken to throwing questions at him in the hope that I get a clue. On our way to nursery yesterday morning I said “Look darling, look at the road menders! Do you like mending roads?” in the hope that if he said yes I could book a bulk ticket to DiggerLand and be done with it. He answered in the negative and shuddered enough to suggest that he will be a white collar worker when he’s older.

The lack of birthday party inspiration is not in itself a real problem – something will pop up eventually. The problem lies in the fact that I’ve got to be up and ready to take our Canadian visitors to their first port of call bright and early on Sunday morning - we’re off on a trip up the Thames – and so any birthday activity the previous day should leave me bright eyed and bushy tailed enough to do so. All previous birthday parties have left me in a heap for two days – even his first party managed to render me exhausted for a day afterwards. He slept all the way through it, I overdosed on jelly and ice cream. “Tell him that the boat trip is his birthday present” Charlie suggested when she called me earlier. Nice idea but it wouldn’t work. Besides, Bea is essential at any family gathering and she doesn’t “do” boats and “certainly not on the Thames darling”.

“Why don’t we just have something here?” David asked as I had a mild panic at the kitchen table last night. Hm, somehow I think that that would fall fairly short of his expectations. “It’s ridiculous, the way parents are forced to be more and more inventive and extravagant with their children’s birthday parties” he grumbled, secure in the knowledge that any Birthday Party Failure would not be deemed as his fault. “Matt used to be happy with a couple of sandwiches and a game of Blind Man’s Buff” he went on gloomily as he wiped down my surfaces. How things change, my sort-of-step-son spent his last birthday party face down in a chow mein after drinking enough vodka shots to disable the most hardiest of Russians.

Don and Lorna’s visit means that I’ve had to arrange to have Mac collected from nursery every afternoon and have at least a couple of events that he can join in on after nursery. A trip on the London Eye is one and the other is a schlep over to the Natural History Museum – David’s quite excited about that himself. I hope to God the Canadians like what I’m arranging – I got an email response to my tentative schedule and Don said they were both “really excited about the treats in store”. I hope so, they’re paying for it. They’re currently in Edinburgh “soaking up all the culture”.

Lydia was brisk and to the point this morning. “You can’t tell me that with all of this….” here she gestured at the teering pile of leaflets and brochures and travel guides strewn across the kitchen table “…that you can’t find something to amuse a four year old child, assorted friends and a handful of adults!”. She’s right of course, she generally is. She’s also a bit down at the moment because Thomas Samuel Michael Robinson-Hoult is being christened this Sunday. Understandably she’s boycotting the event. Even though she received an invitation.

Yes, for her soon-to-be-ex-husband Mike and his bit on the side Susan (soon to be the new Mrs Robinson as soon as the divorce comes through apparently) invited the woman he cheated on and dumped to the christening of their love-child. It fair boggles the mind. We were invited too, as were Jane Opposite, Ruby Over the Road and Jill With The Purple Door – the latter is the only one going and has promised to report back. No doubt Marjorie is putting it on the agenda for the next TANA meeting....must actually go to that one.

“Matthew is taking me out for the day” Lydia said gloomily, picking off her nail varnish. “That’s nice!” I over enthused but with the sickening knowledge that Matt’s idea of a nice day out is a pie and pint in a pub followed by a round of golf. “Hm, the London Aquarium” she snorted “presumably so I can imagine Mike swimming with the fishes”.

They say that inspiration hits you when you least expect it, don’t they?

Ayres' hot cross buns!!!

Run, walk, cycle, drive, hop, skip, jump along to Ayres on Nunhead Lane......their hot cross buns are hot and ready to go! David and Mac popped in on their way home from nursery and bought some of the lovely beauties (he's definitely in my good books now!).

Yes I took this picture with my new camera and yes Mr Ayres.......these are two of your yummy buns!

Picture perfect

I have a wonderful man, it’s official. He’s not at work today but went out this morning on a mysterious errand, with a smile on his face. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it (can’t think why, I moan about everything else going wrong!) but my digital camera decided to go on the blink last weekend. With two brand spanking new batteries nestling in the battery compartment, the “replace battery” light flashes incessantly. Four different sets/combinations of batteries later I gave up the ghost and checked the guarantee. Which expired at the end of December. Isn’t that just typical? After a consultation with a camera-fixing place they informed me that to repair it would cost more than I’d paid for the camera in the first place.

I’m lost without my camera which is silly really because I don’t use it as much as I should. The ideal thing to do would be to illustrate this blog with my own pics rather than typing the words “A21 road sign” into Google and picking the best picture. Not that I’d go all the way to the A21 to take a picture for my blog but I could certainly use it to take pics of other things. And then I could begin a picture library and be one of those annoying people who go round snapping at everything. Or, maybe not. Certainly with my forthcoming Tour Guide duties coming up I’ll need a decent camera. But one that is less….fiddly…..to use. My now defunct camera took so long to upload pictures after following a ridiculously longwinded procedure that it was easier to Google and forget the home-grown pictures altogether. Apart from that one that’s appeared at the top of my blog – but that took me five minutes to sort out. All of this has been discussed at length over the past week, websites visited and “ease of use” instructions compared.

Anyway, to get back to today. My morning, after I’d taken Mac to nursery, was taken up with listening to what Marjorie got up to with her surplus of Ann Summers goodies and a Barry White soundtrack over the weekend. Hair curling stuff indeed. I then rang David to a) find out if he would be back for lunch and b) to see if I could work out where he was. He said that a) he’d be back at 2pm and b) it was very noisy. Hm.

Anyway, 2pm arrived as did my husband, grinning from ear to ear. He’d been, he said, “shopping”. I then started thinking thoughts along the line of “oooh, Valentine’s Day presents!” which made me grin a fair bit too. We had lunch and then retired to the living room for the three quarters of an hour we had before Mac had to be collected. “Oh, I nearly forgot!” David said as I fulumphed down onto the sofa along with Junior Dog. “Here…..” he said, handing me a glossy bag containing a square box containing this.

My squeal of excitement far exceeded Frank’s alleged bellow of delight when he saw Marjorie’s goodies. I clutched the camera and my husband alternately and immediately got down to reading the instruction manual whilst gabbling my thanks and planting kisses on David’s still beaming face.

“And no, this isn’t your Valentine’s present….that’s still to come.” He said, picking up the paper and flicking it open.

Have I mentioned that I have a wonderful man? And that he knows me so well?

Returns and arrivals

My super special saucy package arrived "express delivery" yesterday - David practically mugged the Royal Mail driver who was smirking because he'd already delivered a similar looking package to Jane Opposite (who was standing on her doorstep, ripping open packaging, waving contents at me and screeching "My Bill's in for a good night tonight!!") and Marjorie Stewart (three trips from van to front door - I kid you not). David cared not a jot - he managed a quick peek before his mother and Margaret descended the stairs for breakfast and his beam was bigger than the godawful T-shirt Amelia presented me with.

Yes, the Dublin Duo have returned. Poor Jack Next Door left his house at 6 o'clock on Friday night and didn't get back until gone midnight. During their week away I averaged about 11 calls a day from Amelia and Margaret but could either one of them pick up a phone to tell us that their flight had been delayed? Of course not. Jack was left hanging around from 8.25pm (when they were due to land) until ten to eleven when they finally came out of baggage claim. On ringing Ryan Air at 8.30, David reported that they'd been delayed, Amelia had her mobile switched off and Jack was on his second coffee. When he finally had the intrepid travellers in his car and heading back to London he rang to ask what he should do with them. What could I say? I couldn't ask him to divert to Sevenoaks could I? Although I wished I had.

They both bustled through the door at half past twelve, woke up the entire household and presented us with presents that I'd be too ashamed to send to the jumble. Apart from my T-shirt (lurid green with the scribblings of a mad man front and back and about six sizes too big), David was presented with a three pack of pants in sludge green, an Irish rugby shirt and a condiments set. Mackenzie did slightly better with a nicer T-shirt, a leprachaun toy and a set of postcards. Jack thanked them both for his Guinness gift set and went home, no doubt to collapse into bed. Meanwhile, we had to get them off their Irish high so David and I could actually get to bed. They, on the other hand, were intent on sitting up with us in the living room telling us all about their adventures. Amelia was the main story teller with Margaret chipping in the odd anecdote and correcting Amelia which started off a row. Their opening words were "We got to the end of your road on Monday morning......"

Yesterday, after we had taken delivery of my super special package, David spent about an hour trying to convince them that they really should head off for home. He even went as far as to start putting their cases in the boot and appeared, at quarter past eleven, in his jacket and jangling his car keys. Amelia shot him a look and asked Margaret to check in the fridge "to see what's for dinner". I must have had a pyschic moment in Sainsbury's on Friday because I bought a double pack of Penguins with 50% extra. I'd never normally do this but mum or Gladys were obviously with me for did I need every single crumb of them by the time Casualty started.

Still. It's now twenty to five and David has just called - he's on the A21 on his way home having deposited the Dynamic Duo in Sevenoaks. Mac has worn himself out in the garden (a cunning plan hatched by David after he took a closer look at the contents of the package) and is all but begging me to send him to bed early. The poor child is almost face down in his fish pie as I type (laptops are so handy - can supervise tea time and terrorise cyber space). He also showed an interest in my package and asked me if I had a "dead bird in there mummy?".

"What did you buy?" Bea asked me earlier when she rang to complain that the seams in her stockings "are extremely wonky and I can't straighten them" and the "apricot massage oil smells more like blueberries". Put it this way, I told her, it's not the sort of underwear you'd wear every day - unless of course, you were Dita Von Teese.

E is for....

Thank you very much to the truly great Potty Mummy who has bestowed a lovely honour upon yours truly. After a very trying weekend this has cheered me up enough to put down my Penguin multipack and now, after I choose my eight (yes I know I'm some missing but four of my faves have already got one!) I get to visit their blogs to alert them!

So, I'd now like to alert Blossom Cottage , Crystal Jigsaw, Kelly, Gwen, Landcroft House, Muttering and Meanderings, Rilly Super and Mary.