My day did not start well. It wasn’t until I’d got to the train station before I realised that the black jacket I had chosen to match my black skirt was in fact navy blue and looked awful. I was surrounded by gorgeous young women who were coping with wearing heels on the train. I had my Uggs on because I’m too old to care about fashion and would rather get to work with my feet intact. Whilst on the train, trying to get my head around my new Google + app I clicked on a “You’ve been tagged” photograph and a family appeared that I didn’t recognise – they had all been named except the sheepdog that was with them and the message hovering over his face said “Is this you?”. WTF.
I’m very excited because I’m off to see my teeny weeny-still-slightly-undercooked-but-doing-incredibly-well nephew tomorrow with my brother. He’s still in an incubator and they’ve had to leave him there as my new hero of a sister in law has already been discharged. So hard to have to leave your baby in hospital but hopefully it won’t be long before he’s back home with them.
I find it extraordinary to think about the difference in age between my firstborn son and my brother’s last born son – nearly 21 years. A whole generational difference. Unbelievable how we’ve managed to do that. We will all be ancient by the time he hits twenty one. I wonder if he will be living it up at university by then. Or whether America will have brought the whole world down by then. Or whether Russell Brand and Jemima’s hair will have merged into one big beehive by then or whether Trinny Woodall and Charles Saatchi will be sitting outside Scott’s together (I’m sorry but I can’t believe her behaviour – sitting at the same table he sat with Nigella only three months ago) or whether I will still be single moaning about women like Trinny behaving badly and getting all the men.
I wonder whether Red Bull will still be on the market and hosting parties for students. I can’t quite believe (well of course I can) that my firstborn has blown out our visit to see his new house at uni this weekend because they are hosting a Red Bull sponsored party in their new enormous rented house with 10 inmates and enough mattresses to use as sound-proofing for the poor neighbours. The deal is that Red Bull provide all the drinks (and presumably all the mixers) and two professional DJ’s and some guests and promoters and my son and his friends are allowed to fill the rest of the space with 75 of their nearest and dearest (but clearly I’m not one of them, nor frankly would I want to be).
I wonder though, if I could try that same tactic for my next party and maybe invite Bombay Sapphire or Verve Cliquot or some sort of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc producer to sponsor the event. I don’t mind only inviting 75 people and having two DJ’s although I wouldn’t fit everything in.
It’s not really fair is it. This not a very serious approach to university life. They should all be working, surely.
Expat MUm
October 3, 2013I have clearly been in the USA too long as my first thought was that Red Bull are putting themselves at serious risk of being sued the first time a kid chokes on his/her own vomit. (God forbid.)
And on a lighter note, although I worked at uni, it was nowhere near as hard as my daughter works now. She texted me from the library last night and it was 11.30pm her time. If I was up at that time it would have been in a club or at a party.
Family Affairs
October 6, 2013Well I slightly agree – it’s a risky approach to promotion don’t you think? and a little bit sinister – I wonder if they were handing out packs of 5 Silk Cut like they used to do at my parties just to get us all hooked nice and early. Lx