Monday: Tooley Street and surrounding areas

Monday and the first of our tours – the Britain at War exhibition, London Dungeons and Hays Galleria. We all met up at Nunhead train station at ten past nine for the start of our journey. I had no worries about losing Don – he was wearing a bright fuschia pink shirt. Lorna seemed remotely unconcerned that her husband was searing the retinas of our fellow passengers as we sped towards London Bridge and requested an additional pit stop at some point during their stay: “I’d like to go and see where that Gordon Brown guy lives.” It seems that Lorna has taken quite a shine to our Prime Minister – “He kinda reminds me of Doug when he was younger”.

The Britain at War exhibition is amazing – both inside and outside you truly get a feel for how things were during the Second World War. We went into an Anderson shelter (I got a strong sense of Gladys at this point), visited a “night club”, hyperventilated when wearing a gas mask, saw what contribution women made during the war (we deduced that I’d have made a great Land Girl!) and tried to work out how the hell we’d survive if we were on rations now – four ounces of butter? Don joked that he put that on his toast every morning. A real eye opener and made me, once again, realise how very lucky we are. Quite an emotional visit which propelled me over to the coffee bar and a large hot chocolate. With biscuits.

The problem with arranging things for others to do (especially if you don’t know them that well, if at all) is that you’re constantly worrying if they’re enjoying themselves. By half past eleven I’d whipped myself into a frenzy. Were they having fun? Were they enjoying it? Were they depressed? Why did Don keep immersing himself in his guidebook? Why did Lorna keep putting her extremely dark sunglasses on?

After constant reassurances that they were in fact having a good time, I relaxed enough to enjoy our wander through Hayes Galleria and a fantastically heavenly sandwich while we had the chance to chat – I think all three of us felt more comfortable after I had to perform a mini Heimlich Manoeuvre on Lorna after she swallowed a baby tomato whole while Don boomed “c’mon lady, spit it up!” to the chagrin of a group of businessmen at the next table.

We escaped into the jaws of the London Dungeon, amid Don’s jokes about Lorna having taken her heart pills this morning. He was only joking but my own heart stopped when he said that. Lorna cuffed him none too gently around the head and managed not to scream when she was grabbed by a hooded monk. I, on the other hand, emitted an ear piercing scream that I’m surprised David didn’t hear in his office which is just fifteen minutes walk away from London Bridge.

Of course, we popped in to see him. I’m sure he wished we hadn’t as Lorna proceeded to bond with his PA Irene (Irene herself having choked on her bacon ciabatta this morning) and Don took up residence on his office sofa to read more from his guide book.

Guilt presents: book for Mac, Indian takeaway dinner for David, nothing for the dogs

An aside....

I can see the years flashing past me, propelling my pride and my boy into his teenage years and then young adult hood and then introducing me to his bride and then making me a granny......during an off-hand discussion last night, just as I was about to fall into the Land of Nod, David informed me that Mac will be attending the London Nautical school. That's it, no discussion, no asking Mac if he'd prefer to go to Bacon or anything. Just "Mac will go to the London Nautical, just like I did."

My baby son was just four on Saturday and is not yet in primary school yet his father has sealed his fate in seven years time just because he likes the sea and is good with a golf club.

Fish and freesias

It's officially Day 2 of Don and Lorna's visit and I'm officially knackered. Of course, it may have something to do with my exhausting Friday (I knew I should not have spent all week putting off my tidying and cleaning - I was mopping the kitchen floor at ten to midnight) and my shattering Saturday (five over excited children and lots of fish) but even so. I'd have thought I'd have had more stamina than this.

Mac's birthday treat was just that - a treat. We found Nemo, "Jaws, mummy!", stroked some stingrays (despite Lydia's reservations - Ginny told her to stop being such a "big pansy, let the lad feel some danger!") and had a lovely walk along the Thames afterwards, with Mac telling everyone that he was going on the "big wheel soon". Home for cake and presents (Ginny's present of a stetson and leather chaps went down a bundle - David is still worried she's going to somehow land us with Jezebel) and an early night for us after we'd taken Ian and Caitlin home to Bea, Stephen, Enormous Au Pair and her parents. But that's a whole other post. When we were snuggling down under our duvets at about quarter to ten, Dad, Don and Lorna were heading along the motorway for the start of their few days in London.

Up this morning to breakfast in bed - bowl of cereal, cup of coffee and toast and jam ("I made it all mummy!") and a quick whizz round the park with the hounds, home to find Sort of Step Son Matthew had bought me the windchimes I'd seen in the aquarium shop the previous day and he and Mac had gone "halvesies" of the biggets bunch of freesias I've ever seen.

Don and Lorna (I've not met either of them before) are larger than life characters, even though Lorna is about half the height and width of Don. Don favours loud shirts (I'll have no worries losing him in a crowd) and an even louder voice, calls Mac Young-Feller-Me-Lad and chomps on huge great cigars. Lorna is blonde and petite with a ringing laugh, is prone to giggles and affectionately calls her husband The Chump. I think we'll get on just fine!

They gave Mac the opportunity to choose the venue for dinner when we dropped round to Dad's this morning with left over birthday cake: David, Dad and I looked nervously at each other - Mac is as capable of suggesting "McDonalds" as he is the "Saveloy!". Thankfully, he was struck down with sudden shyness at being put on the spot and hid behind Lydia who suggested Harvesters - she's craving their Combine Harvester platter enough to suggest pregnancy.

So that's where we're off to in a little while - Mac wants to wear his chaps and Matthew is quite keen to get his mitts on the stetson.

Look closely.....

Pretty, huh?
Very nice?




Feeling hungry yet?


Artist unknown but s/he's bloody clever!!

Itina...Itiner....schedule

All plans have been finalised, approved ("Gee, am so excited I may pee!" - Lorna), booked where appropriate and paid for. I've got my "proper" shoes (ugly as hell but soooooo comfortable), a range of comfy, casual clothes and a capacious yet stylish bag. Childcare has been sorted out, batteries bought for the camera and some (but not all) guilt presents purchased for David, Mac and dogs. Mac is in a state of excitement about his next two weekends ("I would like weekends every day mummy!") and I'm spending the next couple of days cooking and freezing dinners for the next fortnight. David has sulkily put away the takeaway menus.....

So.....deep breathing......excursions will include the Britain at War exhibition, London Dungeons, Hayes Galleria, Imperial War Museum, HMS Belfast, Hampton Court, Camden Lock, Globe Theatre, St Pauls Cathedral, London Zoo, Thames Barrier, London Eye, Tea at Bea's, Tower of London, Harrods, Selfridges and Kensington Palace. At one point I thought I'd over-egged the whole "war, death and destruction" aspect but hey, our visitors are happy!

The Canadians are coming.....

…..on Saturday evening and I’m panicking. We’ve been in touch sporadically as they traverse their way around the British Isles and so far, so good……my plans to keep them occupied are going down very well. Lorna is particularly excited about going round the Tower of London and having her picture taken with a Beefeater. The one thing they’ve vetoed is the trip on the Thames on Sunday – Don “vomited spectacularly on the Norfolk Broads” and the words “boat and “trip” put together are enough to get his nausea rising again. So, a whole day stretches emptily ahead, not ideal for their first proper day in dear old London town. I tried to get Bea to bring forward the family party, planned originally for Saturday the 8th and she went into total meltdown.

“I cannot, simply cannot, ask Alfonso to bring forward his beautiful menu a whole week – these things have to be planned darling and he’s a very busy man, we were lucky to get him at such short notice, normally you have to book months in advance. He’s only doing this as a personal favour so no, I can’t ask if he can make it the 2nd instead of the 8th. He’d have a breakdown of epic proportions and South East London would be denied the use of a premiere caterer”

The poor woman sounded at the end of her tether. I pointed out that she sounded tense which set her off on another rant. It transpires that Enormous Au Pair, horrified at the fact that Bea has requested that Sainsburys, Tescos and Waitrose blacklist her internet account with them and booked her an appointment with a dietician, rang her parents and told them she was being “mistreated” by her employers. As a result of this "hysterical" phone call, Ma and Pa are booking a flight out of Buenos Aires and are arriving on Thursday of this week. “They not a’happy you a’doing thees thing to they beloved only daughter!” EAP hissed to Bea this morning when she gave her the flight details and a list of their favourite foods.

For not only has EAP set her parents onto my beloved sister, she expects said beloved sister to arrange to transport them from Heathrow airport and accommodate them for the duration. I suggested to Bea that she dropped in on her way home from work for a catch up but she declined gracefully as she's got to do a bulk on-line order.

Presents

Sometimes I wonder exactly how my family see me. I love them dearly, I really do, but honestly! I am happy (and more than a little chuffed) to report that this weekend I have received not one, not two, not three but FOUR presents that have been unsolicited, a complete surprise and given so heartwarmingly that I feel bad for even thinking what I'm posting but.......read on before you judge me.

I've been feeling a bit down of late due to my cold that arrived on 8 December and has only just really seen fit to leave me and remarked to Aunt Daisy last Thursday that I feel a "bit low and energy-less". She suggested that I get a tonic "from that nice chemist up the road" - I told her that it was nothing that I wouldn't get over and we changed the subject to other things (her next door neighbour and his increasing reliance on Mars Bars "they'll have to widen the doors if he eats many more!") She popped round on Friday afternoon, having been to that "nice chemist up the road" and presented me with this. "I've mentioned to Ivy that you're not yourself and she's going to drop in tomorrow to see if you're okay" Daisy continued (I should mention that at this point, she was smoothing my hair away from my face and peering into my eyes) "You look after mummy now little man!" she said to Mac as she whisked off to terrorise the men at her dance club.

Auntie Ivy arrived on Saturday morning, having just been to Surrey Quays - "I got you these - Janey swore by them during her pregnancy, sooooo comfortable! I've been meaning to give you them for a while but, well, you could do with them now couldn't you?" - this with a sorrowful look in my direction. I nodded my thanks in a dazed fashion and put them on the kitchen table next to the Sanatogen. "Oooh, no! Not new shoes on a table!" Ivy boomed as she buttoned herself into her fleece "And please don't do what Darren did with Janey's - he thought it'd save time if he put her soup in there at the same time."

At 11.30, the postman bought a package for David that was presented to me with a flourish - I was envisaging that lovely, gorgeous, expensive cashmere 3/4 length coat that I'd spotted in my catalogue (and had dropped more hints than Jim Davidson has sexist jokes) and I unwrapped these. He was beaming from ear to ear and said "you said that you were cold in bed the other night so I thought these would be perfect!". Hm. When I'd said that I was cold in bed I was hoping that he'd offer to warm me up. And not with pyjamas.

My lovely sister Bea appeared in a flurry of designer shopping bags this afternoon, accepted the offer of tea - "any lapsong darling?" - and handed me a glossy red bag with a gleeful smile playing about her lips. "I saw this and thought of you !" She took my (stunned) silence as an invitation to continue "there were other blankets that I thought of but.....this was the nicest. Do you know that one of those that I looked at were an ancient Scottish design traditionally used by shepherds to wrap sickly lambs in, to shield them from unrelenting Highland weather? Imagine darling, a sheep blanket! In Harrods!" I placed it casually alongside my other presents of Sanatogen, Slippies and PJs (noting the colour clash) that were still on the kitchen table. "Oh dear, it looks as if you're planning to take to your bed for the forseeable!" she hooted and proceeded to engage Mac in conversation about something she'd seen on CBeebies.

Is it just me? Should I be pleased that I've got a loving family who will keep me in the manner to which I should be accustomed at my time of life? Am I an ungrateful harlot who doesn't deserve any more presents? Should I be offended that I'm now an official PJ wearing, Sanatogen drinking old bird in need of microwaveable slippers and a comforting blanket?

No, don't answer that - Most Haunted Series 10 is being repeated on Living in a minute and I've just got time to get into my PJs and snuggle under my blanket.