It is never a good sign when two burly men are standing at the front door. It wasn't great timing as I was trying to bake banana cake with George and he was in the middle of mashing. Turns out they weren't here to deliver flowers or inform me of a long lost relative who had died leaving hundreds of thousands to me and my sisters (my secret and dearest wish), they had in fact arrived to tell me that our gas bill was beyond repair. I did try, but a direct debit and the few pounds I had left were not going to cut it. Still, it is amazing how bad fear makes things that aren't that bad. As the lovely lady on the other end of the phone kept reassuring me, I may even come to prefer it. And, thanks to still being tired and emotional  from the pneumonia, I was able to cry proficiently and she agreed to make us pay back the most minimal of payments which means that Ted will be in reception by the time it is paid off. Hoorah! The EDF lady was right though - it has given me a great new game - I can now track how much each activity costs. Cooking supper - 7p. FUN! Have the heat on this evening so cannot wait to see how much it is costing to keep me warm.
I am taking the day out on food. I am eating anything that stands still long enough. It is so ridiculously stupid as the food is not suffering at all at my melancholy, but I will next week at bloody weigh in. I went today to wibblies (my sister's delightful nickname for Weight Watchers - shortened by me from wibbly wobblies which describes the people who attend) and I only lost a sodding pound after all the unsightly sweating and non eating of the first week of the illness. I blame my mother for taking care of me so well in the second week and feeding me up. I will have to perk up tomorrow and take it out on something less damaging - I am 19 pounds from goal and need to hurry the hell up.
The good news of the day is that I have delightful children - it is official. Both their teachers concur with my humble opinion. Even Damian was good at Wibblies, which in itself constitutes a miracle, (my mother has recently renamed him Damian due to his excessively bad behaviour). Oooh and George has drawn a picture. I have waited 4 years and 4 months but I finally have a totally self-drawn picture on the fridge. I was beginning to think he may be a bit 'special' as even Ted can hold a pen but all fears now allayed.
It is late and I am tired. I will have to wake K so I can get into bed. He fell into it post story telling at 7 and I wanted the remote to myself so I have been deliberately quiet, put the heating on and left him to it. Grey's Anatomy, Bones and Four Weddings US are far better without commentary. Even managed to finally order Bea's Beavers uniform 3 weeks after I promised I would. Although in my haste and lack of caring about the task in hand I managed to misunderstand the form and filled in the business part of it too so the package is being sent with my occupation on it too, Alicia, Housewife, Address. It is embarrassing to think people involved in the handling of said package will think I am so proud of my profession I insist on adding it to my address. Actually that reminds me that K once dealt with an idiot who insisted on solicitors using his Dr title in all legal documents concerning the sale of his flat - particularly bizarre as it was a Doctorate not a PHD and his flat could have been sold perfectly well without the prefix. I am sad to think I may now fall into that category of loser.
Goodnight. x