Long time no see. K is watching football and I am not at wibblies tonight so I thought I'd crack on.
So, I left you pre-Easter. I departed for Mum's on Good Friday (sans the manny) and the children were extremely happy to be back in the big garden with the ready assembled and filled paddling pool (warm water such is the luxury at mum's) and bouncy castle. For some reason my lovely father had a real distaste for paying to hire bouncy castles for children's parties and in fact, one memorable year he cancelled my mother's birthday treat after she ordered one for a party for one of my sister's girls. I couldn't be 100% certain the two were definitely linked but it is now a running joke, and after he died, mum bought her own bouncy castle with a massive slide from a man in the village, as you do. Mum's village is a bit like that, it is a small Suffolk village with a pub, village hall and a main road on the outskirts housing the car sales showroom, herb farm and church. (As an aside, the church itself is very sweet although it is not in the most salubrious of positions which is upsetting as it ruins the overall charm - although I got married there which I like to think does give it a certain je ne sais quoi). Anyhoo suffice to say there is always 'someone in the village' who can or has whatever it is you need or need help with, be it a pint of milk, clothes alteration or a bouncy castle.
So, as we turned into the drive and the sun was shining and we rocked up to see the bouncy castle and pool in full swing it was all very over exciting. I only tell you this as it sets the scene, not in a bragging kind of a way. Although actually it isn't at all bragging - that would be if I told you about our fabulous Easter holiday we had just come back from in some exclusive hotel/holiday home. As we can't afford any kind of holiday, it is jolly lucky that mum has a garden so well equipped. So there we were, all excited, I got Bea and Ted out of the car but George had taken offence at his younger cousin already enjoying the facilities on offer and decided to have a sit in in protest. Mum tried first and then I did but nothing would budge George from his car seat so I gave up and went in to the house. Eventually sense prevailed, he got out of the car and the afternoon was a roaring success with the sun shining, the children having the time of their lives and culminating in the eventual arrival of the younger sister and new fiance. The excitement continued with the arrival of a stray sheep in mum's garden on Friday night. New fiance spotted it first, whereupon mum told him he was mistaken and it must be a deer, cue much hilarity at her expense. Followed by lots of ringing of the RSPCA - they don't deal with lost sheep - then the local police station but they didn't answer and so Mum rang 'someone in the village' who promised to collect the sheep in the morning should it be necessary. It wasn't, as he hung around just long enough for the children to see him first thing and then buggered off for new excitement through a hole in the hedge.
Again, this sets the scene, as it was later on that morning that I realised at somepoint during the gaiety of the previous day I had lost my car keys. Cue many hours of searching by the six adults and a few half hearted attempts by the children, for the missing keys. Mum was convinced she had seen them on the table outside before we served the children tea, as was I, cue emptying of the bin. No keys. K suggested via phone that we check all toys as Ted had recently hidden his in the playroom, cue thorough searching of the playhouse, sifting of the sandpit and investigating of every toy Ted had been near. No keys. We even looked at every flower pot in the garden as, many years ago, my niece had hidden my old car keys in a flower pot, under a piece of paper on the terrace of a holiday home in which we were staying. We only discovered them after many tense and stressful hours search, when we gave up and went to the beach, whereupon she told us exactly where she had hidden them with a tone of voice that suggested we had been rather stupid for not asking her to begin with. The car was also thoroughly investigated both inside and underneath by at least four of the six adults staying for the weekend and so by Saturday night I was utterly convinced I would never see them again and that Ted had managed to hide them in a place we would not discover for many years to come. Cue me ringing K and him duly tracking down the spare key and arranging to travel down no Easter Sunday to rescue his ditzy damsel in distress. So it was that as the new fiance and I made our way to his car on Sunday morning to collect K from the train station, he brought my attention to the swarm of flies hovering around my car. I looked and immediately shrieked, as there, glinting in the sun were my keys - on top of the tall people carrier where I had chucked them 48 hours before whilst trying to coax G to get out of it. My mother was not happy and berated me for 'making everyone's life a misery all weekend' but I was desperately relieved and very happy, although obviously I felt a little sheepish informing K after his 8.30 am departure and three hour journey from London. Still, every cloud has a silver lining and he got to enjoy a lovely few days in the sun with his children and rather comprehensive barbecue fodder and I in turn will make a point of putting my keys in the key pot the instant I arrive at mum's in all future visits.
Miserably me losing things is 'typical me'. I also tend to spill things down my front whilst eating and drinking. It is called 'doing a licci' (my nickname). Little sis spent many a 'hilarious' family meal taking the piss out of me and my messy tops. I blame my chest. She is not so blessed in that department so eating at the table would be easier for her, mine just naturally get in the way without me realising. I also knock drinks over quite a lot. Again this didn't sit well with my dad, which just made me more likely to spill for some reason. Every time we stayed in a particular hotel at Gatwick before our summer holidays, I used to spill my diet coke at our evening dinner - EVERY YEAR. I have no idea why this hotel caused such a reaction but I do remember his face every time I did it. It caused a fuss as well, which I should think was the main issue - as well as the 'waste'. I shall not tell you what he said when I accidentally spilt wine. Actually, I remember once we were in a hotel and during breakfast I pressed down on the plate to cut my bacon and managed to spill the entire plate of scrambled egg, bacon and toast into my lap. Turns out the plate was only half on the table and I hadn't noticed. That caused a lot of fuss. I think I suffer from some kind of clumsy disease. One day in the future they will discover what it is and just like dyslexia me and my fellow sufferers will be vindicated after years of abuse at our expense. I shall set up a charity to help children who suffer as I did.
Oh golly, this has gone on too long and you must be desperate to get off - I shall be quick. Suffice to say, Easter happened, chocolate, sun, burnt shoulders, packed up, came home, back to school, more wibblies training (oh GOD have got to tell you next time about bizarre woman from last night) and then weigh in this morning (stayed the same which was massively disappointing as I had been ridiculously restrained over Easter and now 'the powers that be' are going to be distinctly miffed at my scale stagnation) then more wibblies training this afternoon in Enfield. The END.