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Bugger.
Another evening wasted - dozing on the sofa.
Why am I always so knackered by 9pm?
I don't get it.
Yeah, I get up around six every morning but to be perfectly honest my days aren't that busy. Izzy off to school at 8.30, Eliza to playgroup at 9 then just Carter and I pootling about doing our thing until 12, pick Eliza up, lunch, Izzy home at 3.20, dinner for 6-ish, dog-walking, animals fed, baths had, littlest kids to bed by 7.30, Izzy by 9 (weekend bedtime) and that's it.
I don't spend my day running a company, personally assisting some high-flying businessman, teaching a classroom full of over-opinionated kids, cooking posh cuisine in a top restaurant or anything else particularly full-on, so WHY!?
Could it be that I'm getting too past it to be dancing to the tune of a one year old daily, that I'm suffering from some dreadful illness that makes me shut down at sun down or is it just that I'm a lazy cow?
I reckon it's my sofa.
It has magic sleep-inducing powers that envelope me as soon as my bum hits the seat.
Every day for the past week I've said to myself "I'm going to do a bit of blogging tonight, catch up with everyone and maybe post something mildly interesting".
Yeah right! - the most I manage is a quick look at my unsurprisingly sparse emails then my bum is drawn to the sofa...AGAIN.
"Right!" I thought on waking up at midnight on the sofa once again - "I'm going to go to bed and think of something to write a post about."
So here I am sat in bed scribbling stuff which I hope to make some sense of tomorrow and type into a post.
I would like to write about our visit to Halletts Mountain but that would require suitable effort to do justice to Meredics' beautiful home.
Not some late night scribbling of some semi-comatose forty-something, moaning old bag......
Exciting thing that have happened lately......
Three baby pigs born. Not exciting at all unless you are a big guinea-pig fan.
Just one not really exciting but quite nice thing really - Kev, Rosie, Gary (Rosie's boyfriend), Jake and I went out for a meal on Monday night to celebrate Kev's 43rd birthday.
We went to a rather nice country pub and had a lovely meal but the young man who waited on us was, although very nice, as camp as christmas!
This is all fine but when Kev has a few ales these days (not being used to drinking much anymore), he gets a bit silly.
To cut a long story short, Kev said something to Jake which resulted in them both spiralling into that uncontrollable, hysterical laughter - you know, the kind you can't stop, the kind that makes you hoot and wheeze, leaving you with tears rolling down your cheeks and unable to breathe. And sometimes the odd snot-bubble.
This continued for a good ten minutes. Luckily there were no other diners in the same part of the restaurant as us which was just as well. We were the kind of table that could annoy some people, especially very sensible people with no sense of humour.
So, a good night was had. Lots of food, lots of drink and lots of laughter.
Saturday we have the delights of Izzys' school May Fayre to look forward to.
Call me a miserable old bint but I bloody dread the May Fayre.
Table tops full of tat for sale (proceeds to the church most likely) - parents are asked to donate stuff for their kids to take into school which they then have to go to the fayre and buy back again.
Over priced, under filled hot-dogs, rubbish face-painting which looks like the sort of art that Carter often creates with a crayon on most of the walls in our house, cups of nasty instant coffee and grey tepid tea, cruddy tombolas, name the stuffed toy animal which looks as if it has been made by someone from the local residential home for the old mad folk, lucky-dips that are SO NOT lucky, a coconut shite and the school choir singing about how lucky they are to have Jesus in their lives (which is always a bit disturbing to a non-believer like myself)...
Now I know that Izzy won't read this so it's ok.
So tomorrow at 2pm we will have to feign enthusiasm and trot off to school with our hard earned cash and fritter it away on stuff we don't really want.
We have no choice.
Izzy is in the choir and is very excited about the whole thing.
So, spare a thought for me on Saturday whilst you're all having a great time and keep your fingers crossed for me to win a bottle in the raffle rather than a box-set of old-lady soaps that always smell like toilet cleaner or shake'n'vac.
Moan moan, whing whinge, grumble grumble........................
p.s.
As I am typing this up Saturday night, after having been to the dreaded May Fayre I can confirm it was crap.
Even more crap than in previous years.
Oh and I didn't win anything in the raffle - not even a bottle of pissy plonk......which I suppose is a good thing really.......
Another evening wasted - dozing on the sofa.
Why am I always so knackered by 9pm?
I don't get it.
Yeah, I get up around six every morning but to be perfectly honest my days aren't that busy. Izzy off to school at 8.30, Eliza to playgroup at 9 then just Carter and I pootling about doing our thing until 12, pick Eliza up, lunch, Izzy home at 3.20, dinner for 6-ish, dog-walking, animals fed, baths had, littlest kids to bed by 7.30, Izzy by 9 (weekend bedtime) and that's it.
I don't spend my day running a company, personally assisting some high-flying businessman, teaching a classroom full of over-opinionated kids, cooking posh cuisine in a top restaurant or anything else particularly full-on, so WHY!?
Could it be that I'm getting too past it to be dancing to the tune of a one year old daily, that I'm suffering from some dreadful illness that makes me shut down at sun down or is it just that I'm a lazy cow?
I reckon it's my sofa.
It has magic sleep-inducing powers that envelope me as soon as my bum hits the seat.
Every day for the past week I've said to myself "I'm going to do a bit of blogging tonight, catch up with everyone and maybe post something mildly interesting".
Yeah right! - the most I manage is a quick look at my unsurprisingly sparse emails then my bum is drawn to the sofa...AGAIN.
"Right!" I thought on waking up at midnight on the sofa once again - "I'm going to go to bed and think of something to write a post about."
So here I am sat in bed scribbling stuff which I hope to make some sense of tomorrow and type into a post.
I would like to write about our visit to Halletts Mountain but that would require suitable effort to do justice to Meredics' beautiful home.
Not some late night scribbling of some semi-comatose forty-something, moaning old bag......
Exciting thing that have happened lately......
Three baby pigs born. Not exciting at all unless you are a big guinea-pig fan.
Just one not really exciting but quite nice thing really - Kev, Rosie, Gary (Rosie's boyfriend), Jake and I went out for a meal on Monday night to celebrate Kev's 43rd birthday.
We went to a rather nice country pub and had a lovely meal but the young man who waited on us was, although very nice, as camp as christmas!
This is all fine but when Kev has a few ales these days (not being used to drinking much anymore), he gets a bit silly.
To cut a long story short, Kev said something to Jake which resulted in them both spiralling into that uncontrollable, hysterical laughter - you know, the kind you can't stop, the kind that makes you hoot and wheeze, leaving you with tears rolling down your cheeks and unable to breathe. And sometimes the odd snot-bubble.
This continued for a good ten minutes. Luckily there were no other diners in the same part of the restaurant as us which was just as well. We were the kind of table that could annoy some people, especially very sensible people with no sense of humour.
So, a good night was had. Lots of food, lots of drink and lots of laughter.
Saturday we have the delights of Izzys' school May Fayre to look forward to.
Call me a miserable old bint but I bloody dread the May Fayre.
Table tops full of tat for sale (proceeds to the church most likely) - parents are asked to donate stuff for their kids to take into school which they then have to go to the fayre and buy back again.
Over priced, under filled hot-dogs, rubbish face-painting which looks like the sort of art that Carter often creates with a crayon on most of the walls in our house, cups of nasty instant coffee and grey tepid tea, cruddy tombolas, name the stuffed toy animal which looks as if it has been made by someone from the local residential home for the old mad folk, lucky-dips that are SO NOT lucky, a coconut shite and the school choir singing about how lucky they are to have Jesus in their lives (which is always a bit disturbing to a non-believer like myself)...
Now I know that Izzy won't read this so it's ok.
So tomorrow at 2pm we will have to feign enthusiasm and trot off to school with our hard earned cash and fritter it away on stuff we don't really want.
We have no choice.
Izzy is in the choir and is very excited about the whole thing.
So, spare a thought for me on Saturday whilst you're all having a great time and keep your fingers crossed for me to win a bottle in the raffle rather than a box-set of old-lady soaps that always smell like toilet cleaner or shake'n'vac.
Moan moan, whing whinge, grumble grumble........................
p.s.
As I am typing this up Saturday night, after having been to the dreaded May Fayre I can confirm it was crap.
Even more crap than in previous years.
Oh and I didn't win anything in the raffle - not even a bottle of pissy plonk......which I suppose is a good thing really.......
