Friendly babysitter came round at six this evening so no need for Cassis - good job too, as I managed to polish off the rest of the bottle last night (oh, it was nearly empty already, honest), whilst watching River Cottage and calling my sister about banners with 'Happy 70th Birthday' on them. Yes, Mum's birthday bash is imminent...

So anyway I escaped for a run at six. Felt like I would run very, very fast away from the house, especially as the Twins had skipped their afternoon nap and had been mini-banshees for the last hour or so, but my thighs were their usual leaden selves. I have been hoping that the stress of uprooting the family and moving to they Himalayas would affect my appetite and shave a couple of inches of cellulite off wobbly bits. But sadly the reverse seems to be true. Am almost looking forward to getting Kathmandu-tummy and losing a couple of kilos. 

Well, I must go and tidy up the house now. Even though it is almost empty, it still manages to look untidy, somehow, and the cleaner is coming tomorrow. And half my family, of course. Oh, and I have a massive stack of ironing, and Twin 2 has just started to cry. Might be a late night!

cabin fever

Have just had a large glass of Cassis. Looks and smells just like Ribena. Tastes like it too, but am hoping it will take the edge off midweek half-term blues.  

Kids are all in the bath, but I shall be able to hear if anyone drowns! I just had to tell them that Mummy's patience is now the size of a very thin piece of paper and I am within a whisker of wailing like a banshee at them. 

Twins are both crying at the moment - which proves they are breathing, so I'm staying put!

Today started ok, and I was inwardly congratulating myself on how well I was doing with the whole half term/rain/car-less thing, and then we spent the morning with one of the Twins' little friends. She was not on top form (we'll give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she's coming down with chicken pox or something, and not just being a grumpy hectorette), so it was an endless round of tantrums and tears and snatching and not sharing and naughty steps etc. All I wanted to do was hide in the kitchen and have a quiet cup of coffee, and I kept getting drawn into disputes over whose turn it was to wear the sparkly ring/use the Barbie perfume bottle etc.

In desperation Little Friend's mum put on a DVD, which meant they spent most of the morning watching telly, thus limiting options for the afternoon.... so I tried having them let off steam this afternoon by having a pillow fight, but Son kept actually hurting me, and Dog joined in and started humping the pillows, so it had to be abandoned. Tried playing catch, which was also pretty disastrous, given that my ball skills are about the same standard as the Twins'! They were finally happy for five minutes scuttling about in one of the empty packing cases and pretending it was a helicopter - until someone shouted too loudly, which made someone else's ears hurt and someone else banged their head, etc. so it all ended in tears, as blooming usual. 

I guess this is what is called cabin fever.

And speaking of which, wonder how Hubby is doing out in the middle of the Atlantic with his burly crew (or is he in a motel with a beauty therapist from Nantwich? I neither know nor care)?

Right. The Cassis is beginning to take effect - might have just enough courage for story time...

Ah, lush rainy and windy bank holiday weekend with no Hubby or toys or anything. Thank the Lord for soft play centres - luckily they are so busy at the moment, that no-one seems to notice that we far out play our two-hour session limit. If there was an option to take sleeping bags and kip over I think we'd go for it. Not sure how healthy it is for kids to survive on diet of hot dogs and chocolate frogs, but I'm sure they'd be okay (probably better for them than my dubious culinary skills).

We did eventually make it home from soft play today, and I inflicted The Sound of Music on the kids. Hurrah for BBC 1! They would only have had an argument over whether to watch Monsters Inc or Barbie and the Dancing Princesses on DVD anyway, so in the spirit of conflict resolution, we all watched lovely Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer singing their little hearts out and escaping the Nazis. I only cried a couple of times, too (really couldn't help myself when they were on stage doing Edelweiss).... maybe that's what I can do with the rest of half term: dress the kids up in old curtains and teach them the soundtrack to the Sound of Music (not sure any of them will thank me for adding this to their childhood memory bank, though).

Well, I'm off now so, so long, farewell, aufwiedersehen and adieu!

I know I am totally pants but I cannot begin to bore you with the stresses of the last few weeks.

 Oh all righty then, I will. 

There were all the injections, and the feature I was writing with a deadline that coincided with the packers arriving, and the weekend guests, and there was the mouse in the kitchen, and the half marathon (which was supposed to be down hill but bloody wasn't, I can tell you!), and yet another hideous cold that I thought was a chest infection but of course wasn't, but was just me being a 'malingering tart' (Hubby's phrase). Then of course Hubby went and bought a new computer, which didn't work. And then, this last week, even though there has been a computer (and that's just about all there is left in our cavernous empty house, now around twenty tons of plastic toys have been shipped off to Nepal), I have had a series of pressing social engagements: book club, highlights, team curry at boss's house, and finally last night the Partylite party (which was a bit like Anne Summers, but minus the comedy value - the idea is that you all get together over drinks and nibbles to buy overpriced scented candles. I only went because the hostess is a lovely lady who does my reflexolgy - don't give a stuff about smelly wax. At least my step mother-in-law will now get a birthday present. I think she's the kind of woman who does care about the aroma and ambience in her hallway. I hope so as she's about to receive a candle in a tin, which smells of pink pepper and orchid - and at under a tenner, was about the only thing in the catalogue I could justify buying. The odd thing is, that I never ever win anything ususally, but at this party, I actually won something in the raffle. Of course it was just a bloody scented candle, so I gave it to my lovely next door neighbour - who is also the kind of woman who appreciates these things. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love going to houses where the air is lightly scented with vanilla and the the place shimmers with the light from a dozen beautiful candles, there are healthy nibbled arranged on the recently-dusted coffee tables, etc. It's just that I can't be arsed to do that kind of thing myself.) Anyway, so it's been busy.

Now Hubby has gone off adventure training (sailing) - or so he says. To be honest I haven't taken much notice, what with everything else that's been going on, so he may have left me for a 19-year-old hairdresser (lucky girl - it won't last once she sees the 'old steptoe' face). Alternatively, he may just be trying to avoid a family gathering, which is imminent (my mother's birthday next weekend). 

He has helpfully left me with one car for sale on ebay and the other booked into the garage. And it's half term. Thanks for that.

I look forward to a lovely long week with three kids at home, no toys and no cars and no Daddy...

Sorry, sorry, sorry! I am still here, but we are having computer nightmares and packing mania etc. I will write again soon - hopefully 'book club' tomorrow night will reveal some super lush gossip - although probably not, if previous ones are anything to go by. As well as book club I have a supertastic Partylite party to look forward to this week - life is just one gay old social whirl! Promise to write soon, but Hubby needs computer back and he's got a very scary face on...

Ann Summers - what a carry on!

Yes, I went to an Ann Summers party last night. At the welfare centre - hardly a venue to conjure up erotic fantasies, but as it turned out neither was one single item of our good lady Ann's wares.

I had to 'fess up to the party host (who was seventy years old if she was a day, with an assistant who was admittedly younger, but a good ten stone overweight, so not sure how either of them managed with the crotchless panties or peekaboo bras, but hey, who says you have to actually use your product to be able to sell it?) to being pretty much an Ann Summers 'virgin', as the last time I attended one of these events was almost twenty years ago. Yes, me a virgin, ha, ha. And that was just the first of one of the many, many quasi smutty wisecracks of the evening ('if you wear this skimpy secretary's outfit, ladies, you'll certainly get a rise from your boss' etc.).

We had to do a truth game, where you took a dried pea for each sex question you could answer in the affirmative ('Have a pea, if you've ever had oral sex, ladies', for example). Having never had a threesome (unless you count the dog being in the room at the same time) or fantasised about another man, I was pretty much the Sandra Dee of the group. Most people seem to fantasise about Johnny Depp, it appears. At least I think they meant Johnny Depp: 'You know, the Willy Wonka one' - so they could have meant Gene Wilder (surely not?) or some random chap with an uneven todger perhaps? Well, I don't.
And I don't dress up as a naughty secretary, either.
And I certainly don't want anything to do with those enormous pulsating bubblegum-pink things with rabbit faces on them.
Actually felt quite squemish whilst the vibrators were being passed around. They were sort of tacky and sinister at the same time. Like scary christmas decorations.
Everyone else seemed to think it was perfectly normal to consider getting intimate with something that looked like a fluorescant pulsating cactus.
So it was quite difficult deciding what to purchase from Ann's tasteful catalogue of sensual delights. You see, I absolutely had to buy something, as is the way with these events - it's really no different from Tupperware or Partylite or any of those other ones. Oh, except that I'm supposed to embrace the idea of talking about my sex life with the women who look after my children.
Didn't I mention? The Ann Summer's party was a fund raiser for creche. Uh-huh. It's these voracious man-eaters (with a penchant for scratchy lace and Carry On style fantasies) who look after my lovely Twins on a regular basis.
Doesn't bear dwelling on, really.

What wild and thrilling adventures have been happening here recently? Hmmm, well, I bought some new trainers. Yeah, I know, living the dream and all that. But for a woman who only makes it off camp for one of three reasons:
(1. taking Son to school
2. medical appointments with kids
3. trudging round Lidl looking for cheap nappies)
then making it as far as a non-food shop in a neighbouring town was quite a rare treat.
Although obviously it had to be fitted in after Son's swimming lesson and before the Twins woke up from their afternoon sleep.
So it was hardly a leisurely spot of retail therapy. In fact, as I had Son with me, it was more of a disorganised stumble from car to till and back again.
Now, I love my son, and I'm always being told how lovely he is (which he is), but he is still a boy, and after his swimming lessons he is a tired boy, with the concentration span of a small flea, and a similar propensity to jump around randomly. Whilst I was discussing with the sales assistant the benefits of Saucony over Asics and which was better suited to a neutral running style, Son managed to knock over a bike in the window display. I apologised and everyone was very nice about it.
We continued our discussion about trainers when I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see Son lying on his back, with his head underneath the changing room curtain, so as to have a good look at whoever was inside. Of course I immediately demanded he came out, apologised profusely to the sales assistant yet again and suggested to Son that he also apologise to whoever was in the changing cubicle.
I of course meant that he should just say sorry from outside. But no, quick as a flash (he is eager to please) he lay on is back again, wriggled his head back under the curtain and yelled 'sorry' to the poor customer inside. After which I felt obliged just to buy something and skedaddle asap. Which meant I have ended up with really quite expensive running shoes. And they are pink. Twins love them but Son thinks they are yeauch, and I secretly agree. Tried them out on Sunday and they don't make me go any faster either.
So after that flirtation with the delights of shopping, I may just stick to the school-doctor-Lidl routine in future. Safer and cheaper and way, way less embarrassing.