Blimey, it has been a bit too long since I last wrote (nearly said 'my last confession' there, and come to think about it there is just the whiff of a confessional about this blog. After all, haven't mentioned reciprocation issues or hostessing phobia to anyone else in the street).
In between then and now, have had two visits to the doctors for to get us all vaccinated. Wierdly, my poor deprived children think that going to the med centre is some kind of treat, and skip in shouting, "Yay, injections!" - hope it is merely to do with the fact they all get to share a minute bag of cola bottles afterwards (woo hoo) and not because they have latent S&M tendencies.
We have also had a family visit to the dentist, which was greeted with similar joyful whooping, even though they get apples afterwards - don't want to give the dentist the wrong impression: "oh, yes, they only have apples and cheese for treats, not sweets, ever, Mr Dentist!".
More vaccinations to come on Friday and Monday - they will be veritable pin cushions by the time we leave.
Also twins had a very pink and sticky birthday at the weekend. Now they are officially 'big girls', several people decided it was time they had Barbie dolls. There is no escape now. The house will be full of anatomically incorrect peach plastic laydeez for the next seven years or so. Scary. Some of them even have wings attached, which is just odd. I don't mean to be ungrateful, because obviously the girls love them, but really, am half hoping they get lost in the move...
Grumpy Hector is not at home this week. As a result it is already past nine o'clock and the breakfast dishes are still lying unwashed in the sink. Not good. As he says, he has his uses.
I haven't really recovered from book club, which was far from being a drunken hooly, but nevertheless was a late night, and then I went and did a 10-mile run the following morning, and last night when I should really have been doing some housework I watched a programme on Heather Mills, so I am left with the legacy of being knackered and disorganised. Although I do know a lot more about the Geordie gold-digger, and I'm hoping this will stand me in good stead for the celebrity gossip quiz, which has been organised in lieu of the next book club - it seems that people were getting a bit bored of book club as it involved, erm, reading and discussing books. So now it's being rebranded as 'the-drinking-and-gossip-event-formerly-known-as-book-club'. Shame. I feel like the class swot, but I really did want everyone to read my book club choice for the next session, which is 'Two Caravans' (by the same woman who wrote 'a short history of tractors in the ukraine), as it's fab and funny and intelligent all at the same time. Ah well. I suppose I'll have to go back to reading 'Now' again, so I can hold an opinion on whether or not Posh has had a tummy tuck, or some similarly fascinating topic.
Anyway very sensibly tonight I am going to ban telly (unless there is another celebrity secrets programme, in which case I will have to watch it so I don't come last in the quiz), and not allow myself any gin or chocolate raisins until I have tidied the blooming kitchen.
Well, maybe just a small G&T to get me in the mood for drudgery...