Happy Days

Hubby due home in less than a week, hurrah (I think, although I will now have to resume the tedium of leg-shaving and cooking decent meals once in a while).
Decided to enjoy the last weekend of not having to slave over a hot stove to satisfy my man's appetite by erm... not slaving over a hot stove at all. Lovely neithbour cooked lunch for Twins and I on Friday, then we had 'Fun' Friday in the mess for supper (aka: 'managing-to-stuff down-a-couple-of-the-kids'-chips-whilst-they-narrowly-avoid-A&E' Friday - see previous entry).
On Saturday we trekked back to the mess for brunch (next time we should just take our sleeping bags on the Friday and save ourselves the hassle), then on Saturday evening another kindly neighbour popped to the chippy for us. I did actually have to flick on the cooker on Sunday for brunch at home as I was just way too embarrassed to turn up at the mess yet again with my wailing snotty entourage, but fortuitously there were kids' parties to go to for Sunday lunch and supper. Happy Days.
This kind of thing will all come to an abrupt end soon, as Hubby regards both mess functions and children's parties as ... I was thinking then whether Hell-on-earth would be too strong a phrase to use, but it's not, actually... which is a shame as I've been doing a good job training my children in being liggers, scroungers and freeloading generally: At brunch on Saturday the waitress remarked on how good my children were, sitting down and eating all their food without having to be nagged or bribed. I replied that they were just grateful because they never got fed at home, and she laughed, like I was joking...