Sundays are still very dull round here. Sorry

So. I didn’t get to sleep until nearly four this morning.  Not one of my better nights it has to be said.  I ended up getting about five hours sleep, because Jason was a good husband and got up with the kids and let me sleep in this morning.

I thought I would be crucified for the rest of the day, but it seems that I am so used to being this tired now that I didn’t crash and burn until about six this evening where I dozed on the sofa while the children used me as a human climbing frame for an hour until bed time.  Oscar doesn’t approve of people closing their eyes on his watch.  Very unprofessional.  So I can’t say it was very restful.  I couldn’t do a lot about it though.  My eyes were going to close come what may, even if a small boy did keep making demands upon them.

It has been another mundane Sunday in the Boo household, and there is nothing to report of any amusement value.  Nothing happened and then nothing happened some more.  It’s actually quite nice because we are quite a ‘something happened’ kind of family and we all deserve a break every now and again.

I did put the time to reasonable use and made a fairly momentous decision.  I have a driving lesson tomorrow night and I am going to arrange with my driving instructor to book my actual driving test and try to do it reasonably soon.  I have been mulling this over since Friday and I have come to the decision for a number of reasons:

• Fear seems to be a primary motivator for me to get off my arse and do things.  Therefore, it’s probably best, given that this is something I am monumentally afraid of, to just charge at it head on, rather like a rhinoceros, albeit one wearing a grey dress with a bloody nice handbag.
• I know I am sabotaging my driving lessons.  I can do it. I am just not doing it.  I’m not doing it in a calculated way, but I do realise that I am unconsciously buggering things up.  I get it, and I am sympathetic, but I am also sick to death of driving round and round endlessly for no purpose other than to scare me to death and pay someone to do it.  I could go on like this for months.  The only way to stop spending ridiculous amounts of money and swallowing up all my free evenings is to get the bloody thing over with.
• I am hoping that like with the theory test, the fact that I hate to fail will kick in and save me from monumentally buggering it up on purpose.
• I know I will probably fail anyway, but it’s not going to kill me, and at least I’ll be better prepared the next time around.

So there you have it. 

I talked it over with Jason this afternoon.  He agreed.

The rational part of my brain thinks this is logical, sensible and a clever thing to do. The rest of me thinks I am bloody mad and must be a masochist.

So there we have it.  I will report back after speaking to the instructor tomorrow and we will set the next train of terrifyingly awful life events in motion. 

The only other thing that remains for me to do now, before I finally crash and burn and hopefully sleep because my brain will simply shut down shortly, is to show you some more pictures.  I am so pleased I finally found the right lead for uploading things.  It is a revelation.  I apologise for my crapness as a photographer, but I am hoping you get the gist.

Here is the new handbag:

I don’t know why I love it. I just do. It’s not my colour at all.  They had it in navy and black, but it made it look like a school bag. Magenta just did it for me.  It also has a purple lining. I love the lining.  It’s by Vanda Francis. I’ve never heard of her. They’re probably made in a shed in Llanelli by pensioners. I don’t care.  It’s making me very chirpy at the moment.

Then there’s these.  I forgot to mention these shoes, which I bought a couple of weeks ago in a fit of madness:

They’re by Dune, but, as with the bag, I got them from my shop of choice, T.K. Maxx.  Jason was with me while I bought them, so I didn’t have to hide them.  He did question why I needed to buy yet another pair of vertiginous black hooker shoes when I already have several pairs, but then I put them on and he concurred that they were needful.  I can’t really walk in them, but hey, it’s never stopped me before.

I did actually go out in them the other week with my friend when we went out for dinner.  I nearly killed myself in them and I stagger about like a drunk in them, but they are too, too fabulous.

No wonder my hip packs up every now and again.