bank holidays. the end of the summer. the last bbq. the last weekend before the kids go back to school in their new Clarks shoes and their new Sainsburys outfits and their new pencil case tucked into their bags ready to get lost within a few hours of putting them down in the classroom.
the last of the hot sun.
the first of the major downpours that last until the following May.
getting stuck in a mass-exodus-from-London-traffic jam.
having an argument about whether to get off the M road.
forgetting to pack any waterproof jackets. therefore getting caught in rain.
should I start planting my autumn bulbs?
I can't believe Gal sailed off with Dawn into the sunset last night on Enders.
hmm. that smell of autumn bonfires.
picking blackberries.
squashed apples on the floor and too many wasps.
dusting off the alarm clock and thinking about the new routine which will be starting in just over one week.
the last glass of white wine before moving onto red which always warms the fingers a bit better than icy chardonnay, as the nights close in and the air gets crisper.
and watch out! don't be tempted to step on that pile of leaves! there WILL be dog shit in it.
oooh. jumpers.
Friday, 28 August 2009
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Climbing back on
Have had another day of being On The Wagon (why is it a wagon? where is it going? is it pulled by a tired mare with blinkers and hair loss or by a strapping stallion with rippling muscles and the wind in its mane?). That is because Husband is out tonight which means I don't open wine and I get to watch my first episode of East Enders in WEEKS. Months in fact. Its sinful. Shocking. Dis-respectful of me to have missed so much of the Square. But life on a summer holiday is very hard to plan around Fill & Dawns affair and who the father of Evvas' sprog is - 7.30pm is not a convenient time to drop everything and rush to the old TV (its deeper than it is wide. I think if this TV was screwed into a wall like a trendy modern flatscreen I'd have Tony from Next Door screaming in fear as the whole wall collapsed in on us... its a big TV). But tonight I caught a whole whopping 20minutes of it and it ended with Gal punching Fill in the middle of the square and Dawn looking hopelessly on with too much makeup and a seriously trashy wedding dress. Will they get married? Will I be able to watch the episode on Thursday? I'm not sure as we have friends for dinner and I just may have to cook something for them rather than check the make-up continuity of Dawns lips.
But onto healthier things than Enders. My throat hurts and I've told my Brother that he's to REFUSE my pathetic requests for his cigs. I am now going to cut the cord between me and smoking. I'm too old and too unhealthy and you know what? Smoking KILLS. Like knives. Guns. Earthquakes. Illegal dogs. Bad council paving. Airplanes. They all kill. So I've decided to give up smoking because at least I can. I may not be able to give up illegal dogs (our neighbourhood is over run with the creatures, drooling like a rugby player with oversized gumshields and shitting all over our streets for our small children to carelessly run through and then spread all over the inside of their cars or houses - Mummy whats the smell that's making me gag?) and I may well trip over a big crack in the Harringay pavement caused by an undetected earthquake (you don't know what goes on when you're asleep) but I can at least force my brother to stop feeding me cigarettes. Actually I may well give up airplanes too. They're a dreadful invention. Partly because they scare me a lot (even more than my old riding teacher) and also because they do sometimes fall out of the sky and also because they do waste a lot of energy and also because they have horrid loos which when you flush them you think 'am I going to get sucked out of the plane now?' and also air stewards are generally orange and that's quite scary. You also have to go to airports when you get an airplane and they are full of orange people wearing bad clothes to go on holiday in, and there are queues and over priced newspaper shops and too many people in uniform who are mainly out to get you and then the plane gets delayed and all the orange people go to the Ye Olde English Pub and drink beer at 9am and that's quite scary too. So yes. Smoking AND planes (Monsieur Coff I know you'll pick up on this at some point and when I book my next flights to the Costa on the most orange planes of all I'll have to pretend that it was Husband and that he didn't know my latest vow of abstinence...).
So my list for today: no booze, no fags & no planes. I scrub my halo.
But onto healthier things than Enders. My throat hurts and I've told my Brother that he's to REFUSE my pathetic requests for his cigs. I am now going to cut the cord between me and smoking. I'm too old and too unhealthy and you know what? Smoking KILLS. Like knives. Guns. Earthquakes. Illegal dogs. Bad council paving. Airplanes. They all kill. So I've decided to give up smoking because at least I can. I may not be able to give up illegal dogs (our neighbourhood is over run with the creatures, drooling like a rugby player with oversized gumshields and shitting all over our streets for our small children to carelessly run through and then spread all over the inside of their cars or houses - Mummy whats the smell that's making me gag?) and I may well trip over a big crack in the Harringay pavement caused by an undetected earthquake (you don't know what goes on when you're asleep) but I can at least force my brother to stop feeding me cigarettes. Actually I may well give up airplanes too. They're a dreadful invention. Partly because they scare me a lot (even more than my old riding teacher) and also because they do sometimes fall out of the sky and also because they do waste a lot of energy and also because they have horrid loos which when you flush them you think 'am I going to get sucked out of the plane now?' and also air stewards are generally orange and that's quite scary. You also have to go to airports when you get an airplane and they are full of orange people wearing bad clothes to go on holiday in, and there are queues and over priced newspaper shops and too many people in uniform who are mainly out to get you and then the plane gets delayed and all the orange people go to the Ye Olde English Pub and drink beer at 9am and that's quite scary too. So yes. Smoking AND planes (Monsieur Coff I know you'll pick up on this at some point and when I book my next flights to the Costa on the most orange planes of all I'll have to pretend that it was Husband and that he didn't know my latest vow of abstinence...).
So my list for today: no booze, no fags & no planes. I scrub my halo.
Monday, 24 August 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
