RUBBISH. My children appear to be the only ones who have gone back to school already. Lots of their friends have just started their half term holiday.
We didn’t really do very much in the end, although my youngest son and I did spend a lot of time together doing bits and pieces which was fun. I didn’t find anywhere to go fishing (phew) and so we just pottered about being vague. He didn’t want to do lots of the things I suggested but one successful trip, weirdly was to go and check out the pet shop in Harrods. Hilarious. I have never seen so much bling for pets and there is a whole cake stall for pets!
Look at these cute little Daschund puppies – only about £3K each:-
Here in the pet spa she was actually cutting with a pair of nail scissors around his bottom. Yuk.
THEN my son suddenly announced he wanted to buy a Syrian Hamster – OMG panic stations with me refusing on lots of different levels – mainly that our cats would eat them….but a salesman adamant to help – took us around all the relevant paraphernalia required but in the process managed to successfully put him off “you can’t of course keep it in your room because they sleep all day and are very noisy at night – of course all they do is run on a wheel and they smell terrible – need a lot of cleaning out although we have some citron straw that might help and of course they bite – you have to be very calm and know how to hold them and don’t show any signs of stress…..”.
Other highlight – Westfields. Not exactly the most cultural week ever.
My daughter was away all week and now that she’s back I’ve noticed something. My house is WAY more untidy and also I start getting a little paranoid about my possessions. I’ve had a week of not having to hide my mascara or shout at her for stealing my foundation. My hair elastics are where they should be and so are my tights. Yesterday it was back to hiding good pairs of tights under things so that she doesn’t find them AND what’s more we appear to be having a pillow war. She keeps taking one of my good ones and replacing it with some shitty thing I don’t want. So back it goes. To and fro. Incredibly unreasonable. My mother would never have stood for it. I’d have been beaten. Locked in a cupboard probably. For days. And then made to sleep on a rock. Outside. In the snow.