Tuesday, 12 July 2016

Dream on...

After Sunday evening's merriment, it was with a sigh of regret that I heaved my sorry carcass out of my bed at 6.20am yesterday morning.  Luckily, I had been sensible enough to write my blog when we'd got in around midnight, so leaving the husband snuggled in, I headed downstairs to see sons number one and two off to work.  (Hallelujah, they're out of the house for the day). 

I managed to come down just as they went out the door which was perfect timing.  If I get down with too much time to spare before they leave, I run the chance of being roped in to make packed lunches for them.  I'll be honest with you, chopping up red onions at 6.00 in the morning is not my favourite pastime, so I tend to hide on the landing until I hear them get their car keys.

As I was negotiating the schnauzer ambush on the third step down, narrowly avoiding major lacerations of the ankle courtesy of Reg, daughter number two, who returned from somewhere in Asia last night, shouted at me, 'I'm still awake you know'. 

I didn't like her tone of voice, as she implied that somehow this had something to do with me.  Mmm...jetlag.  Never had it.  Mind you, never flown further than Turkey which might explain that.  So I said the normal mum sort of things like, 'You'll soon catch up with your sleep', and 'You're young, it'll soon pass'.  What I really wanted to say was, 'Oh for goodness' sake, stop your moaning.  You've just had a month's holiday with the LSB (Long Suffering Boyfriend).  You've swum with turtles, ridden horses on the beach and stroked baby monkeys.  You've sunbathed on deserted beaches, slept in grand hotels and eaten fantastic food.  ALL I HAD WAS A WEEK IN THE WELSH RAIN.....'  But I didn't.  I kept my mouth shut, like a good mum should.

As the morning progressed, my sister, Miss R still hadn't surfaced.  The last time I'd seen her and Lord A, they were weaving a wavy walk across the car park to the taxi rank.  Some time mid morning, I had a whispered phone call from her, reassuring me that she was alive, if not so well.  Apparently it took nine hours and several litres of water before she felt human enough to hold a conversation.  Her lovely boss had allowed her a late start, hence the silence.  Oh how I could have done with a late start this morning.

If only to gloat a little longer on the state of the husband's head after Sunday night...

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