New shoes - New husband?

Husband is just back from a 5 day freebie trip to Singapore.
Lucky him.
Not that I'm bitter.
Much.
Except when he calls me from the bar after being taken on a cultural tour of Singapore, out for lunch in China Town, dinner in some fancy pants restaurant 70 floors up (or something, I wasn't really listening, the sourness was affecting my hearing), followed by watching the Grand Prix trackside and then back at the hotel bar having cocktails.
He was slurring.
I was shouting in the mobile, 'I can't hear you!'
He replied, 'Don't get moody.'
I responded, 'Why would I be moody? I am walking the dog and two girls, I have to go home, cook dinner, teach spellings, listen to reading, bath children, iron uniform (x2), polish school shoes...'
'I'll speak to you tomorrow.' He knew where this was heading.
Luckily we made friends. The husband came home. All is well.
Except, I bought new shoes whilst he was gone (well, I deserve some sort of payment).
I put them on this morning and he asked if I was going golfing.





It's so nice to have him home *reaches for gin under the sink*

Love Letters Straight From The Heart

A little note from my daughter, aged 7


'I love you so much that my hart and soil will disapear' ♥


I could melt it's so divine. I must save it to show her when she's shouting 'I HATE YOU!'  at aged 13.

Misery Memoir - Chapter 1

The husband walks around a bit like he's chewing a wasp most days.
He thinks he has a very hard life. Mainly because he is surrounded by women. Three of us.
Move over junior Doctors working 60 hour weeks and Brain Surgeons, you have nothing on my husbands difficult life.
The latest chapter that he could add to his misery memoir happened on Sunday. I'd bought a nice piece of topside beef, cooked to perfection we sat down, our plates piled high with home made Yorkshires, scrummy veg and our delicious beef. Only something was missing.
'Did YOU buy anymore horseradish?'
Me, 'No, didn't know we were out. Have mustard.'
You'd have thought I was suggesting smearing the dogs grainy poo on his beef.
That ruined it for him.
The wife had not bought any horseradish!
If he was a cartoon character there would have been visible steam coming out of his ears.
This, my friends is what I have to deal with on a daily basis.
Chapter 2 is already being written about the price of a pint of Guinness in the pub these days (£10 for two pints - it's criminal)
Chapter 3&4 are about the receding hairline ('But you don't understand what it's like to look like Alan Shearer').
Chapter 5 The day he reversed into a petrol pump (And the £400 excess the insurance company charged)
Chapter 6 The day he had to spend 8 hours waiting for an Easy Jet flight at Glasgow Airport (with a hangover)
Chapter 7 Deciding age 6 to support Manchester City and the misery it's caused him.

It's got to be a Times Bestseller? Non?

Gary Barlow Is Fit

That is all.

As you were...

Is Wearing A Short Dress Asking For It?

No, I think not, but after a night on Clapham Junction it certainly felt like it. I was invited to a wedding in London and the usual kerfuffle over what to wear began. A friend offered several of her dresses. I nearly wore a black lace number but it was short and I was doing public transport - I wasn't sure. So, I chose a longer grey dress, still above the knee but not so thigh scraping. Not only am I not a dress girl whatsoever, but I am not a SHORT dress girl - it's the knees. Too knobbly. Anyway, had a lovely time at wedding, whilst there wishing I was wearing the shorter black number instead of my old safe grey dress. Had to get the last train back alone. Arrived at Clapham Junction, sat on some cold steps and a man walks past me saying 'You look horny.' I ignored him, but he didn't leave it there, he then went on in great description saying in a very graphic, porno way what he'd like to do to me. I told him to go away, he was disgusting, I was a married mother of two (what difference this makes, I don't know). He continued to follow me down the platform admiring my arse and shouting what he'd like to shoot all over my face (do you get the picture?). I tucked in beside a group of teenage boys with their pants hanging out and a group of 'normal' looking men around my age. One of the group of men asked me if I was OK, did I need help, should he get a member of staff? Luckily the vile pervy man got on the next train (which thankfully wasn't mine) and disappeared. I arrived home feeling sad and a little afraid for other women out there, wondering what this horrible man was capable of. I know that if you have a short dress on is totally NOT asking for it, but it left me feeling so vulnerable in this little dress with so much leg showing. I just don't think I'd have felt as disempowered if I was wearing my jeans.

Over Achieving Mother

Today my lovely little four year old girl made me proud. Why? Was it because she's reached stage 3 swimming. Nope, she can barely put her head under. Is it because she's on stage 4 Oxford Tree reading level? Nope, she doesn't read yet, she is four and likes playing Mummies and Daddies. Shall I tell? It's because she spelt out her own name in French Fries. Now that just shows you what an over achieving mother I am doesn't it?

All Change

So, here I am once again, only now I'm not struggling with dirty nappys and dry Cheerio's caked on the highchair, now I am in an empty nest. Both children are at school. There is silence in the house. So, how is this new found freedom I have been dreaming of for the last three years? Scary is the only word I can use at the moment. I need to get my life back now. And don't I know it. If one more person asks me what I'm going to do with all this time I have on my hands I may turn violent, or simply reply, 'What on earth has it got to do with you?' I don't ask them how they spend their days at work. I don't say, 'Ooh and what are you going to do with all those lunch hours? Or trips to the water fountain? Or visits to the loo where you can lock the door!' But I am aware there are only so many hours I can clean the woodwork (yesterday's job), or refresh Twitter, or watch Holly and Philip on This Morning. Already I have taken on writing more features for magazines. I'd forgotten how stressful it all is! For an idea watch this 'You did not say the story was meant to be positive?' 'I was thinking it...' Here's to the next chapter in my life then. It doesn't feel quite as exciting as the last...