Hole to feed...

-
I expect that you are all wondering what has happened to my children recently.  As a mum, this is a question I ask myself on an almost daily basis, and it's lovely when they call home for a catch up.  Son number two, who is up North learning stuff, facetimed me today.  For those of you who are not au fait with modern technology, this is just making a phone call and being able to see the caller.  What will they think of next?  Chatting way to him as he was sitting in his student digs, it took every bit of willpower not to shout at him to pick his clothes up from the student wardrobe we know as 'The Floor'.  

But he looked very well, and insisted that I tell you all that he called so that you wouldn't think that he's gone back to university and completely forgotten all about me.  Fat chance of that.  He's on that bloody phone almost every other day pleading poverty and starvation, both of which involve me dipping deep into my battered purse.

We're seeing son number one tonight which will be lovely.  I bought the husband tickets to go to see 42nd Street (to be honest, I bought these tickets for me and he's just tagging along) and I suggested to son number one that as he lived in our fair capital city (or close enough to say he does anyway) it might be nice to meet up for a drink after he finished work.  The 'drink after work' has evolved though.  A few messages between him, me and the husband, and all of a sudden we're booked for an expensive three course Mexican dinner at 5.00.   Yet again, poverty and starvation rule the day.

It was back to Pilates last night for the second time this week, and things have evolved.  When I first started last year, all that accompanied the mat was a half deflated ball and a head cushion.  All very conducive to a relaxing hour doing something which was almost nothing.


This year though, the teacher has brought in various props to aid her in her ambitious plan to make us stronger and more toned.  Walking in last week, I had to do a double take, as I thought I'd stumbled into a Tudor torture chamber.  All she needed was a brasier burning in the corner and a few rats and it would have been like you were there.  My biggest fear is holding weights above my head as I lie on the mat.  I repeatedly say to myself 'Don't drop the weights.  Don't drop the weights'.  I don't think that anyone has ever broken their nose while doing shoulder drops, but you can't be too careful.

And to finish off the day, because of the blooming facetime call from son number two, I never made it to the vets to collect Reg's babygrow.

Percy is very pleased about this, and is already planning the night's entertainment while we are out.

Daughter number one is on dog-sitting duty tonight.  

I'm leaving her with some bromide and a water pistol...

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It's raining men...

-
We overslept this morning.  I'm not entirely surprised having walked the equivalent of a half marathon over the past two days, and we just about made breakfast.   We did all the usual Christmas stuff today.  Carnaby Street, Regent Street, Borough Market, mulled wine (again), chocolate covered bananas and caramelised nuts.  There was also the issue of the very inclement weather.  Wandering around the whole A to Z of London, the husband decided that a purchase of a hat and scarf was necessary.  Being a fairly sensible woman, I had brought a hat, scarf and gloves with me, but the husband, being of tougher stuff (he hails from the north) had proclaimed that he was no southern softy and would deal with whatever the weather had to throw at him in a manly fashion. Fast forward to late morning, the rain was chucking it down, and the manly fashion had morphed into wimpy whinging about a chaffed chin due to an evil coat zip and a wet head.  And so began the hut hunt. We tried sports shops (t
Read more

Ain't no mountain high enough...

-
Image
I thought you might be interested in the other stuff Mr Bird and I got up to while we were away in the Wobble Box this weekend.  The pinnacle of the weekend was the mountain climb (see what I did there?) but before this, we had anticipated a simple, peaceful and quiet few days together with the dogs.  What we hadn't expected was to be shouted at as we strolled to the pub on the first night, 'What on earth are you two doing here?' Standing outside a posh (and long) motor home, were two very good friends of ours.  Happily retired, they trolley around the world in their home on wheels, and just happened to land in Pandy a whole thirty minutes before we did on Thursday.  The funny thing is, that every time we see each other, the subject of caravans and motor homes is always raised, with promises on both sides made that we will arrange something together for a weekend.  To date, we've never managed to do this, but it finally happened by accident.  We all decided that th
Read more

Diary...

-
Eight years ago, I came up with the idea of writing a diary for my children which I would put into the public domain.  And so Words from a Bird began.  Two thousand posts and almost a million words later, I am still going.  But like all of us, lives change.  Eight years ago, my life was all about the four children, schools, universities, boyfriends, girlfriends, work, my husband, family and the dogs. Much of that is still relevant today, thank goodness, but we now add in two weddings (one more pending), grandchildren (one, and again, one pending), retirement and looking after parents. So to all my completely gorgeous readers, to the ones who have been with me right from the start and to the new ones who have discovered me just this week, thank you for coming along for the ride with me.  I hope I carry on making you giggle for many years to come!   If you don't want to miss anything, just follow the Words from a Bird page. And when I am a very old lady, I hope that my children will
Read more