Busy days in the Boo household.
On Saturday I spent two hours in an emergency walk in centre with what could have been the ears of doom. As it was, the GP downgraded them to ears that might be doom laden but would probably be alright.
I then spent two hours in Specsavers with a grumpy husband who didn’t want new glasses but really, really needed them, due to having to wave menus around seventeen inches from his face to decide whether he wants chicken katsu or not.
In between that I spent a great deal of time in the car, rotating between various pick up and drop off points for children going to and from exciting social events, none of which involved me, because it was clearly a day for intensive medical pondering for the over 35s in the family.
To cap it all off, on Saturday night, our kettle died. We are the bona fide death of kettles. This one, an expensive Dualit one we bought because we were fed up of the cheap ones dying on us, lasted just over two years. Just enough time for the warranty to run out in fact.
Thank God for the emergency, hob top kettle.
Sunday was spent slightly less frenetically, buying a new kettle, doing tedious household jobs and taking delivery of an Ocado order which made me wonder what I was doing when I ordered it. Clearly not thinking straight, as the delivery of 8 kilos of onions and four large bags of limes will attest to.
Yesterday we were all knackered, and decided that we would not go to the big Leicester City parade/party to celebrate winning the Premier League. However, when we were eating dinner in the garden, we could hear the roars of the crowd from the park and decided that we simply couldn’t miss out on it after all. We hate being left out, and for us it was a five minute walk to assuage our nosiness.
Our local news reports say that there were 240,000 people out and about celebrating in Leicester last night, with over 100,000 of them in the park. It was certainly noisy enough for me to believe it. Weirdly, we bumped into quite a few people we knew, which given the number of people around was about as staggering as Leicester winning the league.
Sadly, the children flagged before Kasabian came on, which was a bit of a shame as I am rather keen on Serge and had hoped to stare at the small, fuzzy dot that was him, for free. As it was, I just got to hear them from the garden instead.
I feel I’ve let my children down by inadequate party stamina training. It is my mission for the rest of this year to get them party ready. I want them raving until dawn by Christmas.