Peering through the fog

Well, that was a terrible night’s sleep.

Jason went to play poker last night. I fell asleep long before he got in. I woke up at half one, needing a wee, and was just blindly stumbling my way back to bed, half asleep, sans contact lenses, when a dark figure loomed in the doorway, nearly giving me a heart failure.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he said, ‘I thought you must have heard me come in.’

Erm, no. That’s why I’m clinging to the ceiling by my fingernails with my tail bushed out like a deranged cat.

Really easy to get back to sleep then.

Woke at five with a crunching stress headache having had a particularly malevolent dream about me and Tallulah’s singing teacher getting lost somewhere in London and being stalked by a deranged and violent man from the dry cleaners.

I woke up as we were trying to fend him off and my mobile phone had just skittered out of my sweaty grip into a gutter nearby.

My teeth were clenched, my jaw was clenched. My head was generally quite clenched. I got up, wandered about, took some pain killers, came back to bed. Woke to the alarm at seven feeling as good as a person who has had several frights in the night.

And it’s foggy. But warm. Which means my sinuses have gone on strike again. More reliable than the pine cone hanging up outside the weather centre I think you’ll find. The pressure is very low barometrically speaking.

And we’ve got to take Derek to the V E T.

And Tallulah needs £3 for another revision guide which she needs now, even though her exam is at the end of May 2015. I have literally got three pence to my name, so although the school beg to disagree, I suspect we may be able to wait another day for me to scrape up the funds from the back of the sofa.

In better news. I cooked a meal last night. It was good, albeit strange. We had some chicken that needed using up and the kids wanted granny chicken, which is basically marinated chicken pieces, grilled/fried. There wasn’t enough chicken to do much else, so I capitulated – marinading in soy sauce, balsamic vinegar, garlic, a slug of olive oil and lots of ground pepper. We had potatoes that needed using up. I fancied roast potatoes, so that’s what we had. With salad. Necessity is the mother of invention and all that. I am just pleased I have managed to produce competent meals for over a week now. My halo is glimmering weakly amongst the dust bunnies.

Tilly did alright in her pre mock, mocks. I have never known a school so keen to test children. Surely one set of mocks is enough? Why would one want to have an exam to practice a practice exam? It makes my noggin spin round.

Tallulah survived food tech, as cookery is now called. She looks as splendid in her hair net as anyone else, which is faintly cheering. She is turning into quite a stunning young lady and generally looks gorgeous in everything. A hair net, however, is a great leveller. I’ve never seen Kate Moss in a hair net. Now I know why.

As well as the hair net Tallulah managed to make a very tasty cous cous salad, despite herself. She even had a small amount at dinner. She said: ‘It’s alright, but it’s not cup cakes is it?’ which is basically everyone’s reaction when faced with cous cous salad.

Oscar has his first meeting as class representative on the school council today. This is a great honour. He got elected by his class, and is very proud that he got the most votes of all the boys. He attributes the win to his ‘cuteness power’.  I asked him if he was excited about the meeting. He said: ‘I’m more excited about my new cloth swimming hat. It’s definitely not going to pinch my head this week in swimming.’

Fair point, well made.

I would have suggested he wore the swimming hat to the school council meeting, but he would have definitely taken up the challenge, given that he loves that swimming hat with an unholy passion, and it has to be wrenched from his head on a daily basis. I don’t think even cuteness power can make a swimming hat acceptable in a council meeting.

I might write to Boris Johnson and see what he thinks.

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