On the Razz

This is my 51st post. How time flies. It has also been a week since my 50th post - apologies if you were expecting one sooner. It does seem a shame to ruin such a nice round number but perhaps it will lead on to 100 which is an even nicer number. Maybe then I will retire....

But for now, I am finally having a night in so I can regale you with my thrilling exploits. Brace yourself Betty.

I shall start back at the beginning - Tuesday morning was the fabulous school sports day. I wasn't particularly looking forward to it as a. I was convinced it would rain b. it means a morning holding onto Ted and stopping him joining in any of the races and c. as K and I are very non-sporty I had assumed my children would be similarly challenged so there would be nothing to celebrate. Oh and d. last year it was held in the school playground which was very grey and dreary, and although obviously it was nice to see Bea running up and down with bean bags and the such, it didn't really 'get me'. This year was a whole different ball game. (ha ha) It was held in the adjacent sports ground which was lovely and green and from the very start, gave the impression that this year was going to be a 'proper' sports day. There was a proper running race, tug of war, obstacle course, skipping race and then the less impressive throwing and catching but all in all terribly enjoyable. There was even a mums and dads race. (No of course I didn't win but I did at least take part for the Nursery one). I was all raced out by the time it came to the mums and dads race for the rest of the school. The two hours preceding it saw me running repeatedly from one side of the field to the other whilst pushing Ted in the buggy and holding on to my diet coke as I tried to split myself in two so that I could be there when George caught a ball or Bea skipped brilliantly. More by luck than judgement I managed to see, clap and cheer on Bea as she was awarded her medal and then George his. Hooray! Not everyone got a medal this year so it was BIG NEWS. Although sadly by the end of the morning Bea was in tears from the over excitement and energy she'd put in to attaining her medal. Still, I was euphoric. The sun shone for the duration, Ted was manageable until he finally fell asleep for the last half hour and I had a jolly good go at the Mums vs Dads Tug of War (Mums won twice all down to me obviously) and both of my suddenly sporty children went home with a medal. I have not been that happy for a long time.

Did I go out on Tuesday night? Oh no - I was meant to be going to Zumba wasn't I?  Well, the buzz of sports day spurred me on to do an awful lot of housework and be extra specially chipper all afternoon so that by the time it got to 6pm I had hit a considerable wall. I texted my neighbour who wanted me to go on a power walk with her at 8, to say that I was exhausted. She very sweetly replied, 'Fat doesn't sleep'.  So, after I put the children to bed, I felt compelled to put on my trainers and tracksuit bottoms before I collapsed on the sofa.  She lives opposite me so she has a clear view into my living room and I wanted to make it look as if I was ready for the off at a moment's notice.  Ingeniously I also secretly texted K to tell him not to hurry back and thank goodness he took me at my word and didn't get home til 9 by which time we both agreed it was too late. Hoorah! K was very surprised to see me so happy by his late return.

Wednesday saw a visit to the Docs for Ted who I wanted to be checked over for his breathing which still wasn't good. I mention this mundane aspect of the week because I am so incredibly pissed off with the Doctor who saw us. A well known idiot, he really did surpass himself this time. Ted, clearly mentally scarred by his recent trip to Lewisham's Children's ward, took exception to the Doctor trying to take off his top and listen to him breathe so tried to run away and then cried quite loudly. In an effort to pacify Ted I offered him his milk, to which the idiot told me not to reward bad behaviour and when he was being out of order 'like this' I should ignore him and carry on regardless and try to distract him. Obviously I didn't enter into a debate or shout at him as I needed his help but mentally I said a big FUCK OFF. Wednesday night made up for any stupid Doctor in the morning though, the Weight Watchers social was cancelled at the last minute (double hoorah) so I managed to make the Private View at my friend's gallery in Covent Garden - a nicer prospect indeed. It was Fabulous. I got all dressed up, met lots of people I didn't know and had a lot of wine (for me, not generally - half a bottle of wine and two glasses of champagne isn't a lot but I was trollied by the time I rolled in at midnight - on a school night - I am soooo cool). It was particularly nice to socialise with the artists at the pub afterwards - they are even poorer than me. No talks of swanky holidays, house moves and nannies with them - it's more handouts, supermarket deals and taking your own beer into a pub. A revelation. Also they thought I was in my 20s so quite frankly they are top of my socialising list from this point forward. The only down side was my cheap Sainsbury's wedges broke - mid walk. According to one dashing young artist, the limp I had to affect from then on gave me the illusion of a South East London swagger. I think it made me look like I had a gammy hip.

Thursday night K didn't come home til 10 so miserably Zumba was shelved yet again. (NB it's on Tuesday night as well and I am here writing this so you are my excuse today). Friday night was another great night out with my lovely girly school pals (not artists miserably but they are nice all the same) and then Saturday night was Glee! I'll admit that by 4pm on Saturday I wanted to cancel as I didn't think I would make the journey, such was my tiredness, but mercifully I pushed on through and made it to the O2 via our extremely efficient East London line (it's been a while since I harped on about it so I thought you might have forgotten). I am very, very grateful that I did and also to my beautiful friend for thinking of me when the spare ticket came up as I had an amazingly good time. HOWEVER, I have to mention the fact that up until last year I had another friend who worked at the O2 and she was exceedingly kind in organising tickets for me so that whenever I went to see anything there I would get to go up in the nice VIP lift and sit in the lovely boxes with a dedicated waiter to serve us drinks. But the best part was that at no point did I have to mingle with the General Public. They are an odd breed. A lot of them were incredibly indecently dressed - in particular the girl who was wearing shorts so small I could see her considerable thighs rub together when she walked. Others were plain rude - the teenagers in front of us to our right, insisted on standing up (we were very high up so it was quite scary and no one else dared so it meant that a considerable number of people couldn't see) and when they were repeatedly asked to stay seated they were less than polite. Not that that wasn't fun and amusing, and of course it added to the overall experience, but obviously I am more than a little annoyed at my so called 'friend' for heartlessly and without any thought for my future comfort at entertainment venues, leaving her job to go and work for a very dull company who can give me nothing. How very dare she.

The last two nights I've been working, which is dull so I won't go into it. Suffice to say I'm shattered and enjoying a night in but it is now late again and I need to get in to bed. The heat yesterday totally took it out of me - as it did everyone. I love the fact that after weeks of rain we all enjoyed a thoroughly good moan about the heat for 48 hours. It was quite the topic of conversation at last night's meeting. More of that later.  I have to go and conserve my energy so that I can start the process of finding new friends - from now on they can only be poor and artistic or well connected to a major London entertainment venue.  Please forward any relevant CVs.

Toodlepippikins. x