Saturday, 2 July 2016

Back on the chain gang...

All good things have to come to an end, and yesterday we said goodbye to our home for the past week.  (If you interested in taking a look at it, here's the website:  http://www.cefncam.co.uk/)  Trust me, you won't be disappointed...

Not only did we say farewell to the house, I also bid a sad adieu to my waistline.  I would like to say that the amount of walking, cycling and general schlepping we did should have been enough to keep the inches at bay, but to be honest, the amount of Welsh cakes I have eaten, a cycle to Mars and back would only have scratched the surface. 

Of course, it wasn't just the Welsh cakes...two lasagnes, a humpbacked whale and chips, half a dozen Chelsea buns and some glorious pheasant must also hang their heads in shame.  And then there were the waffles. I mastered the double meal waffle on one occasion, having them with sausages and syrup in the morning, and as an after-dinner pudding accompanied with hot cherries and cream.  Impressive eh?

So the husband and I decided that the return to sensible eating would start the minute we left the house.  This was all going rather well until we made a motorway stop.  This was an emergency as we had been on the road for over three hours at this point.  I gave the dogs as an excuse, but to be honest with you, my legs had been tightly crossed since Welshpool, and the continuing rain was playing havoc with my self control. 

So dogs walked etc, the husband suggested a drive-through coffee from Starbucks to keep us going.  That was the intention anyway.  Rejoining the motorway, there was not a single coffee on board.  There were however, two of their Smores Banana Caramel Frappuccinos, each with a calorific value of 1,714...As if this weren't bad enough, the husband balanced his out with an All Day Breakfast Roll, weighing in at a further 429 calories.  Blaming the stress of the journey home, we have put the diet back another day.  This is great news, as I still have ten Welsh cakes left...

So waddling back into the house, looking like a couple of Weebles wearing fat suits, we were confronted with what happens when you leave your house in the tender care of your beloved children.

I did think at one moment that they were having a Bring and Buy Sale, as there were piles of clothing and bedding everywhere.  No such luck.  Son number one had returned with a year's worth of washing the day before, having moved from his rented house for the summer, while son number two, (according to daughter number 1) was so confused as to what to do with his clothes when they came out of the washing machine, that he gave up after the first attempt, choosing instead to retreat to his cesspit of a bedroom and live in filth for the week.

I think that over the years, they have convinced themselves that washing and ironing their clothes is one of my favourite pastimes, beaten only into first place by cooking for them. An element of re-education is needed I think.

They all leave again in September.  With the help of my Red Clover and a case of Jack Daniels, I might just survive till then without causing grievous bodily harm to one or all of them. 

But then again, I might not...
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