Sunday, 7 February 2016
Words from a Bird. Day 38
As I got ready to leave work on Friday, I made the foolish mistake of asking my (almost young enough to be my grandson) colleague what he had planned for the coming weekend. He then spent the next five minutes reeling off an extremely well planned two days and three nights of frivolity. Yes, you read right my friend, three nights. Apparently Sunday night is now classed as a weekend night, and not the night you shave your legs, have a bath and watch Antiques Roadshow. My, how things have changed.
So going back to his plans, there was something for everyone. A meal out with his friends, family time with his siblings, a concert (The Game...no, I had never heard of them either. Apparently, he/she/they is/are a rapper/rappers) and an evening with his girlfriend. Quite impressive for a twenty six year old.
At the weekly family breakfast yesterday, once again, the question of Saturday night plans was raised. My mother and her younger half were heading off to the local pub for a meal and a few drinks with friends. There was also a trendy lunch in Ascot on Sunday. My sister had a hot date with a new man - she'd had her toenails done which worried me somewhat. I mean, it's not the weather for open-toe sandals is it? I think I might be missing something there. A quiet night in, (or recovery, as we like to call it) was on the cards for my aunt, and my wonderful friend had plans with her man. She offered no further information on this, so your guess is as good as mine.
No one asked me...when you have as many children as I do, weekends tend to be the time for all the stuff you don't have time for in the week, like breathing, so I have low expectations with regard to going 'out out'.
But this weekend, we are child free, except for son number 2 who uses his home at weekends like a Soup Kitchen, standing in the kitchen at meal times, looking like an extra out of Oliver Twist, his ragged trousers not quite meeting his ankles, arms outstretched with a little chipped bowl as he seeks food.
But I digress. The husband wants to go 'out out'. How exciting! 'Where are we going? Should I wear a dress? Is it posh?' Deep breath from husband, before he sticks a pin into my balloon...
'I want to go and see Dad's Army. I've booked tickets for Sunday afternoon'.
Well, he got one thing right. He booked the afternoon.
So legs will be shaved, and heirlooms hiked around the stately homes of Britain, while the husband shouts at the television, 'How much?'
My goodness, we live dangerously...