La la means I love you...
There are some days when everything goes right. Yesterday was one of those days. It started well, with the husband offering to do the early morning woofer walk. Now I never mind doing this, and it sets my day up really well. But this is as long as it's not raining, when an array of headgear has to be worn to stop me looking like a psychopathic stick of candy floss. Because he did this for me yesterday morning, it meant that I could scoot into town before work to buy fresh bread for my tea party later in the day. I also had time to grab a coffee before heading up to Binland for another morning in the world of waste.
Everything went to plan at work, and I finally stuck my head over the parapet which is known as my email inbox for the first time this week. Master P has started calling me 'mate'. In some ways I quite like this, as it makes me feel 'down with the kids', but on the other hand, as a woman of 53, it does seem a little odd. Perhaps Ma'am might be better, or Your Ladyship. Yes, that might work for me...
So yesterday afternoon was spent with beautiful friends surrounded by cakes, scones, clotted cream and more cakes. These are the best of times, and almost two hours later they departed, leaving me with enough cake to stop son number two and ELL from sulking, and enough scones to ensure the husband will love me forever.
And then it was time for the best bit. Mrs S (she of the new cottage and imminent puppy) picked me up and we drove to Henley cinema to see La La Land. I have been champing at the bit to see this. Having been brought up on West Side Story, Cabaret and Paint Your Wagon, I love anything that has a bit of singin' and hoofin' in it, and this didn't disappoint. Not the ending I might have liked, but joyous all the same.
Walking back into the house last night, I got the usual furry cannonball welcome from the dogs, and then walked into the kitchen to find the husband, son number 2 and ELL working their way through various cakes and scones. Once they had finished, I started putting the cakes away.
'I'll take all that tomorrow' said the husband, salivating at the thought of all day cake.
Leaving a couple of meagre slices for the youngsters in the house for their breakfast this morning, the husband packed up all the leftovers in a goodie box for the guys on site. I am hoping that there are more than the two of them there today. If the husband and Mr R eat all of the cake between them, they won't let them back over the Chiswick Flyover this evening, for fear that the whole thing might give way.
Stops me eating it I suppose, which is a good thing.
Keep saying it, I might bloody believe it...
Everything went to plan at work, and I finally stuck my head over the parapet which is known as my email inbox for the first time this week. Master P has started calling me 'mate'. In some ways I quite like this, as it makes me feel 'down with the kids', but on the other hand, as a woman of 53, it does seem a little odd. Perhaps Ma'am might be better, or Your Ladyship. Yes, that might work for me...
So yesterday afternoon was spent with beautiful friends surrounded by cakes, scones, clotted cream and more cakes. These are the best of times, and almost two hours later they departed, leaving me with enough cake to stop son number two and ELL from sulking, and enough scones to ensure the husband will love me forever.
And then it was time for the best bit. Mrs S (she of the new cottage and imminent puppy) picked me up and we drove to Henley cinema to see La La Land. I have been champing at the bit to see this. Having been brought up on West Side Story, Cabaret and Paint Your Wagon, I love anything that has a bit of singin' and hoofin' in it, and this didn't disappoint. Not the ending I might have liked, but joyous all the same.
Walking back into the house last night, I got the usual furry cannonball welcome from the dogs, and then walked into the kitchen to find the husband, son number 2 and ELL working their way through various cakes and scones. Once they had finished, I started putting the cakes away.
'I'll take all that tomorrow' said the husband, salivating at the thought of all day cake.
Leaving a couple of meagre slices for the youngsters in the house for their breakfast this morning, the husband packed up all the leftovers in a goodie box for the guys on site. I am hoping that there are more than the two of them there today. If the husband and Mr R eat all of the cake between them, they won't let them back over the Chiswick Flyover this evening, for fear that the whole thing might give way.
Stops me eating it I suppose, which is a good thing.
Keep saying it, I might bloody believe it...
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