Words from a Bird.  Day 80

We had a really early start this morning, as the husband had 'offered' to take daughter number two and her BFF to Luton Airport to kick off their week's skiing.  If I had taken them to the airport, I would have parked up, seen them and their luggage in and probably had a coffee with them, before bidding them a teary goodbye.  The husband slowed down for a twenty second period outside the departure gate and kicked them out onto the pavement, such was his resentment at daughter number 2 heading for the powder again. 

The Saturday Family Breakfast went well this morning. The drinks were hot and the food was quick.  You'll wonder why I even mention this, but history has taught us that neither of these is a given.  The conversation then turned to Nerdy Bags.  This is the name my sister has christened a rather large fabric carrier bag which slips neatly into its own zipped pocket to be used instead of the 5p emotional blackmail tax offered at every shop counter.  I got mine out, my aunt got hers out, my sister got hers out and she then gave my mum one, as she had no Nerdy Bag of her own.  I can't say that she was thrilled...the word 'polite' springs to mind.  Having taken the bag out of its handy pouch, it was most amusing watching her OCD brain try to fold it neatly enough to get the bloody thing back in again.

It was quite an exciting breakfast this morning as we were also celebrating my special friend Mrs W's 23rd birthday (again).  Breakfast tradition demands a Marks and Spencer Colin the Caterpillar Cake.  I have often wondered whether other supermarkets have similar cakes with brand-appropriate names.  Waitrose would probably name theirs Quentin, and Asda would have a Kyle.

So Colin was duly presented at the end of breakfast, ablaze with many, many candles (more than 23, that's for sure). 

'Come on then', says my sister.  'Give Colin a blow...'

Deathly silence round the table, rapidly followed by raucous laughter, which was rapidly followed by disapproving stares from the four spinsters of this parish sitting behind us.  We were going to offer them a bite of Colin's head, but decided that if we wanted to be allowed back next week, it might be better to keep quiet. There are so many eating establishments in Marlow where we can no longer show our faces, that we can't risk losing this one.

After Wednesday night's Chocolate Cake Poisoning Incident, I am trying to 'eat clean' again.  Slices of Colin wafted past me, little white chocolate feet mocking me as they tapped against the plates. 

Nobody ate Colin's head in the end.  I wish they had, as his eyes seemed to be following me round the table, saying, 'You know you want to'.

Well I didn't...and guess what?  I sort of felt quite proud of myself. 

Oh, and just a little pi**ed off...



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