Someone has got it in for Hubby; there were iron filings in his brunch in the mess this morning. Twins hair is getting steadily greener, Son's cardboard alien city is taking shape, and my online shopping habit is getting out of control.
There's another bandh today, because its the anniversary of when the constitution should have been written (the government gave themselves one year's extension on the deadline, but it's still not done), so we're stuck between home and camp, and it's another weekend of brunches in the mess and swimming in the pool and Hubby getting gradually angrier with BGN stuff (and who can blame him, when the cookhouse staff are clearly trying to do him in?).
I stayed up too late last night watching Coronation Street, drinking wine and eating chocolate strawberries and pretzels (it's not the same without other people to shout at the telly with, though - I miss Corrie nights with the teachers). Then I had yet another mangled dream about an encroaching tsunami, the second time this week. My subconscious is obviously dreading something, but what? The weight gain associated with booze and chocolate? The brainpower loss associated with watching Coronation street on a regular basis? The partners' club leaving do, which is now just two short weeks away? Or possibly my husband going to Afghanistan for six months?
I could blather on indefinitely, but you would probably fall asleep reading this, as life here at the moment is Dull McDull from Dullsville.
In fact, I'm so bored, I think I'll go and tidy up the Twins' bedroom, just for something to blooming do.
Cheerio! x
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