Did you notice what just happened? An entire Bank Holiday went by without me moaning about it or manically scrubbing my kitchen floor. Ok, so my new kitchen is carpeted but I would have put money on me transferring my energies to the vast expanse of laminate in my conservatory.
But for the first time in years, I actually had company. Mark the Moustache called in on Sunday. He was still here when Rachel and her Maltese suntan arrived. He stayed for another coffee and listened to Rachel & I catching up on 3 weeks worth of gossip. I rustled us up a speedy risotto after he'd gone ( Rachel might have a slightly different interpretation of how long it took but remember, she's a graduate of the instant gratification cookery school).
I expected to be on my own with my supply of new books on Bank Holiday Monday after dropping Rachel back home. I certainly hadn't expected to be driving to Grimsby with my godson and his family. I'd have put a bra on otherwise!
It didn't stop there. I arrived home to find an email advising me that male company would be arriving from Birmingham that very night. Johnny Red and I enjoyed a chat and rather too many bottles of wine and then the next night Paul came over and we had a thoroughly good time talking all about his failed marriage, disastrous rebound ( it broke up 5 days into a 10 day trip to New York) and promising new love.
Before I know it Jack's back demanding hair gel and cotton buds, admiring his tan in the mirror and draping wet towels all over the house. I'm leaving him on his own this weekend while I go to Wales wearing wellies. I shall be mostly clearing out a moat and worrying that he's burning down the house or entertaining young ladies. I may decide to withhold the hair gel to ensure he doesn't leave the house.
But for the first time in years, I actually had company. Mark the Moustache called in on Sunday. He was still here when Rachel and her Maltese suntan arrived. He stayed for another coffee and listened to Rachel & I catching up on 3 weeks worth of gossip. I rustled us up a speedy risotto after he'd gone ( Rachel might have a slightly different interpretation of how long it took but remember, she's a graduate of the instant gratification cookery school).
I expected to be on my own with my supply of new books on Bank Holiday Monday after dropping Rachel back home. I certainly hadn't expected to be driving to Grimsby with my godson and his family. I'd have put a bra on otherwise!
It didn't stop there. I arrived home to find an email advising me that male company would be arriving from Birmingham that very night. Johnny Red and I enjoyed a chat and rather too many bottles of wine and then the next night Paul came over and we had a thoroughly good time talking all about his failed marriage, disastrous rebound ( it broke up 5 days into a 10 day trip to New York) and promising new love.
Before I know it Jack's back demanding hair gel and cotton buds, admiring his tan in the mirror and draping wet towels all over the house. I'm leaving him on his own this weekend while I go to Wales wearing wellies. I shall be mostly clearing out a moat and worrying that he's burning down the house or entertaining young ladies. I may decide to withhold the hair gel to ensure he doesn't leave the house.
posted by Cherrypie at 7:02 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home