Friday 8th May – Allons Y

Yesterday I was very cunning. I did all the cleaning and house maintenance I was planning to do today, so that I just had today in which to pack.  I had arranged lunch with my mum so that I wouldn’t get packingitis, go bonkers and just pack packets of Quavers and earmuffs, and I was all very chuffed with myself and everything.

Then it all went to hell in a bucket. I had a dreadful night last night. Despite soothing myself with custard  creams and watching Kirstie Allsop making patchwork quilts and spending billions on hand crafted Regency chairs, I went up to bed wound as tight as a watchspring.  Not good.

In the end I abandoned all pretence at going to sleep without having the screaming ab dabs, accepted the fact that I seem to be processing all the horrors of the past few weeks in my nightly routine (how nice) and went downstairs to read my book.  Until Three O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING. Pooh!  Then I went to bed and had a panic attack anyway and finally drifted off some time as the light was creeping in under the blinds.

I straggled out of bed blearily and pushed the children in the general direction of school and nursery. I came home, and instead of packing I made Plan B.  Plan B went: spend morning under duvet on the sofa dozing and reading book. Eat custard creams. Go out with mum, come home and pack, pick kids up from school.  It was a good plan.  My friend was coming round for tea when the kids got home and I would need refreshing by then.

All went swimmingly until I got home from lunch.  My friend came round early, two and a half hours early.  Usually this wouldn’t be a problem. Today it was.  Today she was stressed and had stuff on her mind.  Normally this wouldn’t be a problem.  Today it was.  I tried to lend a sympathetic ear, but it was only half an ear as I emptied dishwashers, sorted mountains of laundry and began to fret as I saw home time creeping ever closer and nothing packed, not one single solitary pair of ear muffs, not even one tiny Quaver. Arse.

She left just before I had to go and pick the kids up, slightly miffed I think, that I wasn’t my usual attentive self.  I apologized, but was also rather glad that she had gone. It wasn’t a satisfactory visit because of the space she was in, and because of the space I was in.  A shame, but there it was.

I got to school late, to pick up the kids. Then they ‘helped’ me pack.  It is now seven o’clock and what I now have are several hundred small clumps of things and nothing packed.  The suitcases are in the loft, which is not very practical, and I am so tired I just want to climb into my shoes and go to sleep.  There are two naked  children upstairs in the shower, and one girl at Brownies.  It is nearly bed time and they are all bushed, but there is nothing to be done until considerably more packing has taken place.  We haven’t even worked out how long it will take us to get to the airport yet.

Jason is just downloading the maps of France for the Satnav.  This will be quite useful.  We only remembered this about ten minutes ago.  It is going to be one of those evenings.  I feel that not much sleep will be had tonight either, which is a shame, because the way I feel now I could actually be typing this in my sleep.

On the positive side, I had cakes with my mum.  We haven’t done that for a long, long time.  We went to Borders.  I bought books. I don’t need books.  We are broke. I am stress shopping again.  Don’t tell Jason.  I will make it up to him one day by becoming incredibly wealthy and buying him sweets, a helicopter and a fast car.  Just not today.  I also received a rather magical box of chocolates from my sister in law who has heard on the grapevine about my ongoing love affair with Hotel Chocolat, and indulged me.  She is a good girl.  I have been sampling them steadily throughout the day.  They are yummy.

Right. Off to pack more things.  Wish me luck.

I don’t know if we have internets on holiday.  If we do I will report from vacances.  If not think of us striding across the Pyrenees.

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