My exuberance over reaching the final day of term is ever so slightly subdued by the hangover with which I am currently suffering. Having not drunk for months on end it seems to be all I am doing these days. Last night was the end of term celebrations with a few of the other mums. We didn't get to eat until 9pm and by that time I had already been drinking for over an hour on an empty stomach which was a total disaster. All my good intentions to just have steak, salad and 'a few chips' turned into me eating everything in sight - the majority of the 'shared' chips, ALL of my friend's portion of chips and almost all of the gravy boat of sauce that was meant for us to share (no one complained at the time which now seems odd in the cold light of day). Anyway, I was wearing my non-stretchy 'proper' jeans which I proudly purchased a few months ago as a reward for my weight loss. Having been in stretchy supermarket jeans for many, many years I was not used to the unforgiving nature of the 'proper' jeans and found myself in a great deal of discomfort for the walk home. Not only that but I was wearing my recently rediscovered Primark shoes and it only dawned on me on the drunken stagger home, that the reason they were hidden away at the back of my wardrobe was because they were deeply uncomfortable for any length of walk. So it was that I found myself half limping, half staggering home whilst trying to maintain an air of sophistication and semblance of dignity as my fat tummy hung unflatteringly over the top of my 'proper' jeans and the tightness of them on my engorged stomach caused me to burp/be slightly sick all the way home. By the time I made it upstairs I fell gratefully into bed. Although I was still clothed so I then attempted to take off the offending jeans - obviously I had undone them from the minute the front door was closed - but they got stuck somewhere around my knees. K gallantly stepped in to assist and then helped me to my unsteady feet so that I might remove my makeup and visit the loo before I properly passed out. Such a gent.
Rather ironically, this morning K mentioned his concern over possible male attention whilst we were out 'on the town' (obviously we didn't leave SE23). I assured him that as pretty a picture as a stumbling, overweight, drunk and burping woman was, the wedding ring clearly scared them off as I was not approached even once. However, that was not the biggest surprise this morning. Suddenly, out of nowhere, G has agreed to wear shorts again. I am genuinely shocked. About two months ago he totally took against them and refused to wear shorts on even the hottest of days. Every time the sun did shine there was a great deal of screaming and shouting (from both of us) as he insisted on wearing black trousers and long sleeved tops - preferably black. He would also be extremely angry at the weather and kept lamenting the lack of rain and cloud cover. With the recent spate of rainy days he has been as happy as a pig in muck so I was incredibly surprised to find that his reaction to this morning's sunny skies was to voluntarily don a pair of shorts and a short sleeved shirt. Wonders may never cease. Such was his angst at me trying to persuade him to wear shorts in previous good weather, he drew me a picture to show his displeasure. This may sound unexciting to the uninitiated but this is only the fourth picture he has ever drawn - he will be five in November. He has never, ever enjoyed putting pen to paper for some odd reason and I have never pushed him to do so. Bea has been such a prolific artist she has created enough works of art to sink a battleship and I was quite grateful not to have another load of art to store indefinitely. But here it is! Please find below George's fourth picture and the first picture I have ever posted. On the left he has a smile as he is wearing trousers and therefore happy. On the right he is very unhappy as he is next to a pair of the detested shorts. Et Voila.
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So now that we are done with school, the days are ours to do with as we like and my children are mine to do with what I like. Hoorah! And so this Sunday we will be leaving London for our summer break a la country. I like to refer to my mother's house as our country residence, as we tend to spend most long weekends and school holidays there and it sounds more exciting - as if we might actually be wealthy enough to afford two households. An unlikely scenario as we still can't afford to live in our 'main residence'. Talking of which, K will of course stay in our main residence to look after the cat and earn the money needed to keep us whilst I 'struggle' with the three children and being fed and kept at mother's. I will of course be leaving him a hearty list of jobs to complete whilst we are away. I would hate for him to sit idle at the weekends. I'm sure he must appreciate having a focus too. I know how much he would hate to spend all day lying on the sofa watching tv and drinking beer. I am all about his happiness.
My spirits are fading fast - Diet coke is no longer enough to keep me upright and I am desperately in need of sleep. I shall be back of course, rested and well fed with any luck. See you then xxxxx
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