Happy Mondays

Yippppeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! K has officially tendered his resignation as Manny. His last day is yet to be decided as the package for his new job doesn't come in until tomorrow but, after an afternoon's 'trial' in the office today they sealed the deal with a lot of drinks in the local wine bar (the children were full of admiration for 'fun' daddy upon his arrival home at bedtime and I walked down the stairs to peels of laughter having left him in charge). Anyway, we should finally know everything tomorrow.

I don't know much about what went on except that The Employers like to holiday in Southwold, Suffolk which is our main holiday destination and one I have been frequenting since I was knee high to a grasshopper. That went down well with them. (Not my childhood holidays, the fact that K knew and frequented such a place). I don't know an awful lot about anything else as K has spent most of the evening chatting to his Exceptionally Friendly recruitment consultant on the phone. They are now friends on facebook and yes, I have done some facebook spying and checked out her photo and yes, she is very thin with good sized boobs. I fear this is totally inappropriate and have let K know my feelings on the subject. He heartily disagrees. He would. Anyway, I mustn't focus on the negatives, like my mother, and so instead I shall celebrate the positives. Clever K has got a good job within ten minutes of home where the houses are all worth millions. (I was wrong in my last post - I woefully undervalued Dulwich property. KER-CHING.)

Now that that's dealt with we can move on. Enough about him and on to the main event. ME. So, I have had a fabulously great morning with the old biddies of Beckenham again. I am officially in love with that Wibblies meeting (I was there last Monday for those who can't keep up - where I took the meeting and was generally ace.) There is something ridiculously soothing about old ladies yabbering away. I have no idea why I find it so, but their calm and unhurried nature makes me feel peaceful. They are never rushed, they are very rarely stressed, they seem to have all the time in the world to chat and most of the ladies I spoke to today had a very sunny disposition (I have most definitely encountered old biddies who do not but they are mercifully few and far between). These qualities rub off on me and bring about a sense of calm and well being that I don't find anywhere else and so it is that I find myself pining for the old ladies of Beckenham and wondering when I can get there again. My next scheduled meeting is in Charlton - a VERY different kettle of fish. I don't want to be rude so I won't say anything at all.

One of the conversations I had with Bernie (the lady with whom I was carrying out the admin part of my training) was about the alarming drop in education levels exhibited by the 'youth' of today. On Sunday, K and I took the children to a new play park which they totally loved. After five minutes G announced, 'This place is totally Wocking' (he still can't say 'r' properly which I love - especially when he tells me he wants to go in my room. Get it?) Anyway, I went to purchase some snacks from the obligatory over-priced coffee kiosk where the pretty woman/girl (indeterminate age - I have reached an age where I can no longer tell the age of people unless they are obviously 'young' or 'old'. If you are under 12 or over 50 I am on pretty safe ground. In between those ages are ridiculously confusing to me) in charge of sales failed to add up £1.20 and 75p. She attempted to accomplish this tricky feat three times on her trusty calculator before deciding that she would just 'trust me' and my protestations that it was a simple sum and the total was rather obviously £1.95. I replied that she didn't need to trust me, she could just look at the two numbers and realise I needed 5p change from the £2 I had proffered. She said that she was actually good at maths, having achieved an A for it. I was so shocked I couldn't bring myself to ask whether it was GCSE or A Level and walked away with my 5p. So Bernie and I had a great chinwag about the appalling level of education in this country and I now truly believe my calling in life is to be an old lady. I am going to totally 'wock' being old. I already love knitting, Weight Watchers, chatting, eating, watching TV, tutting and complaining about the youth of today. What else is there to learn?

That's if I make old bones (not sure if that is a common phrase or a Suffolk thing, but clearly it means to get old) - I will just have to keep my fingers crossed on that one. I am, however, relieved to discover that other people have the same severe hypochondria I suffer from. Last week a woman I weighed in assumed she was also harbouring some life-threateningly-sized tumour which was stalling her weight loss. It is nice to know I am not the only one. Although I'm pretty sure that along with Bea's alopecia, my imagined version of the more serious disease, Alopecia Totalis, has also disappeared. Phew. And I've now downgraded my stomach tumour - I don't know if I've mentioned it before but now I'm definitely sure - I am instead having a secret pregnancy. There is no other reasonable explanation for the persistently large size of my stomach. I even think I can feel the phantom baby kicking. One day soon I shall feel ill, go to the loo and emerge with a baby. Of course the more reasonable side of my brain acknowledges the fact that I have an almost 100% effective birth control contraption in place so the chances are infinitesimally small but I cannot understand why else my tummy would remain so petulantly enlarged when the rest of me is shrinking. I'm looking forward to it actually - I can emerge victorious from the bathroom a lot thinner than when I went in and with a baby I haven't planned and therefore cannot be told off for having, in my arms. Exciting! (I am totally the old woman who lived in a shoe - I would carry on having babies until my uterus fell out - but luckily I also like buying things which means I'll have to stop way before that happens.)

K has now fallen asleep on the sofa as the side effects of the alcohol have worn off. I'm slightly concerned by the drinking culture already established by The Employer. We are not big drinkers and I am incredibly cross with K for getting in a car after a few glasses of wine. I think a considerable portion of our future income will be spent on taxis between here and Dulwich. Anyhoo, that is not something I shall worry about now. Instead I can dig out all the catalogues I have hidden away and start creating a considerably sized list of all the things I want. (Worryingly my underwear catalogue is in the playroom as G has taken a keen interest in its content. I found him sitting on the loo looking at it. He is 4 - is this normal?) Anyway, I shall start the list with an ipad 2 and work down from there. All of the scary red bills can be shoved under the sofa and forgotten until my happiness levels are back up to normal. At least if I have an ipad 2 I will have something to offer the bailiffs when they arrive.

I have to go, all the excitement has exhausted me. I need a hot bath and to go to sleep. It's not long before I'm an old lady and I'll naturally wake up at 6 and I need to get my sleep in now.

Excited night time tidings peeps. x