Thursday, 7 July 2016

Leave right now...

Daughter number two returns from 'somewhere in Asia' on Sunday.  In my totally male household (I'm including Percy in this, although he does tend to have unusual leanings for a male dog) it will be good to have another female in the house to talk to.  Daughter number one is rarely to be seen these days - that's the joy of being a teacher, it's feast or famine.  Come mid-July, we won't be able to get rid of her for two months as she enjoys her very, very long holiday. 

This return of the females heralds a new problem in my household...the disappearance of all I cherish as it heads to their rooms, never to be seen again.  For daughter number one, this is usually jewellery, tweezers and make up.  For daughter number two, it's face wipes and every shirt I have ever owned along with several pairs of shoes.  So my eyebrows will resemble those of Percy (look up schnauzer-this will make a whole lot of sense) and my wardrobe will be a barren one until September.

As daughter number two heads back, then son number one and daughter number one prepare to leave.  Again, for somewhere in Asia.  Why can't they head to Albufeira like son number two?  At least I can spell it.

So you can see, there is much coming and going.  The husband and my sister, Miss R, have lined up some lovely treats over the next couple of months so that I don't get too hacked off.  You see, I love the sun, and the British summer being what it is, the last thing I need to see as I'm turning the heating on again, is photos of blue stuff...such as sea, sky, weird looking cocktails etc from my children who all have a self-awarded degree in 'Pi**ing Mum Off'.  

So this weekend we're off to see a certain singing competition winner, who will be belting out all his hits from a floating stage in the middle of the River Thames.  As I am prone to sea-sickness (I have bad memories of a gale force 8 in the English Channel coupled with vomiting in my sister's shoes) I am going to take a sick bag and a packet of Kwells to keep the nausea at bay, as I watch the chap bobbing up and down on the river.  Let's hope he doesn't get suffer in the same way - could be a very short concert.

It's all very English, this doing stuff on the river.  It will probably involve long dresses, champagne, strawberries and singing Land of Hope and Glory, arms linked through those of some twit in a dinner suit (I'm not alluding to the husband here).  There'll be other things of course...

Rain, mud and wellies if previous years are anything to go on...
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