I'm too scared to go upstairs. Big H and small G have come for a sleepover with the twins. Son is hiding down here with me. When the squeaking and thudding stops I may think about going up. I'm in quite a nervy mood. You know the type when you eat lots of chocolate and behave in a manic/shouty way. Yes, you know what I'm talking about...You may think that inviting other people's children for a sleepover when you're in that kind of mood is a bit silly, but you'd be wrong. Firstly, because Big H and Small G are very nice children, but also because when they're around I'm largely redundant Someone has to cook the pasta and hand out the creme eggs, obviously, but apart from that, I've been free to sew cushion covers in front of 'A place in the sun: home or away' (it's always away, in my experience - you get jack for your money in this country).
Did I mention that I was sewing a cushion cover? Oh yes, and I repainted a table and a mirror frame yesterday, all the better to turn the Twins' room from an undersea kingdom to a shabby chic boudoir. The transformation is almost complete (and for a mere £23 as well - I'm less domestic goddess, more domestic skinflint), but I don't trust myself with a drill and screwdriver in my present mood (or ever, in fact), so I'm afraid Hubby might get spammed with putting up the polka dot blinds.
It's still thumping and whooping upstairs. Son has fallen asleep on the sofa. I think it might turn into a long night...
take care xxx