The return of the Boo

The boy and I have returned from London. 

Jason left earlier in the week due to work commitments, and is now camping in a soggy field, which frankly, serves him right. The girls are prolonging their stay in London, spending the weekend with their dad in his new flat. I hope he’s had the hot water supply fixed.

I also hope nobody watches Dr. Who without us.

It is something we do as a family, and given the fact that Oscar and I are the only ones in, we are a bit grumpy that nobody else has the decency to rush home and sit with us on the sofa of nervous anticipation. We won’t get to watch it until Monday, because we are good and kind and will not cheat on the others, even though they are abusing us cruelly.

Today is a day of rest. Thanks to a multiple pile up on the M1 last night, Oscar and  I spent rather more time than we would ever want to, sitting nose to tail with other joyful car drivers between Milton Keynes and Newport Pagnell, and then processed at a stately five to ten miles per hour from that point until I had to come off at Watford Gap services for a double espresso to see us home. We finally got in the front door at 12.45 a.m. which sucked big hairy arse cheeks. Especially given that by then the espresso had kicked in good and proper.

I managed to put two lots of washing on, unpack all the bags, put everything away, tidy up the house, see to the post and have a shower before my batteries failed me at around two this morning.

I am somewhat stupefied today, and am very grateful that my mum and dad went and rescued the tortoise from tortoise chokey for me, as I was up at eight for the painter, and the Ocado man, and then couldn’t go out because I had to wait for the paint to dry on the front door, so I am knackered and trapped.

Oscar didn’t wake up until noon and has spent the rest of the afternoon glued to the television. The only thing he watched all holiday was Bake Off, and he is delighted because he has the remote control to himself and no sisters to argue with. The luxurious life of a small boy.

If you have been privy to my Facebook statuses, you will gather that we had an excellent time in London. Rather too excellent in some ways. I have put on over half a stone in the last week, which is going some. To be fair, I did work at it very hard. I do not believe in dieting, but I do need to lose this half stone unless I want to throw away everything in my wardrobe, which I don’t. So I am on the gruel and water from today until everything fits me rather more comfortably, and then I can get my pig snout out again.

I am consoling myself that it won’t take long and then I can fall face first into the biscuit barrel again.


I shall share details of our escapades over the coming blog posts. The only negative in the whole week was that the property we rented was not all that it should have been, given the frankly ludicrous cost of renting it. We have e-mailed our concerns to the rental agent today, and if it doesn’t get addressed in an appropriate manner then I’m sure I shall be posting a lot more about it on the blog. I’m rather hoping I don’t have to, because that would sour what has otherwise been a splendid week.



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