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r_scribblesWhat a weekend!
Yes, Friday was spent Sans l'Homme et Bebe in Brighton. Was fun but knackering and I missed Hubs & Vi like Hell.
Things I learned on Friday:
Bingo really makes the time fly by even though it's full of really depressing looking people and stinks of fag ash.
Mika looks a bit like Stephen Mangan.
Mama Cherrie's is absolutely delicious but impossible to find.
Going out in a little summer dress might seem like a good idea at 7pm on a balmy late April evening but it makes the midnight walk back along the sea front bloody nippy.
Singing 'My Lovely Horse' at the top of your voice makes the long, cold walk feel much better.
You need no late night entertainment when you end up in a bar with a group of 50 somethings all Dad Dancing.
A seafront B&B might seem like a nice idea when you check in, but when it's a major thoroughfare and has two late night bars and a takeaway beneath it you might not get a great night's sleep.
So after a few hours sleep I bid Claire's hens adieu and, miraculously un-hungover, went back to Canters to see my little family and also Anna & Russell and Ian Harv & Sadie who had come down to visit. Plus Jools & Sylv in the evening. Good fun but bloody hectic. We were both abolutely knackered by the time everybody left. Vi slept straight for over 10 hours - very quietly as well, which did mean that I kept waking up in a panic, used to snuffling, shuffling, blanket kicking etc, and checking she was OK.
Husband has now taken his turn to abandon the homestead (he's going up to a film course in Brum) so I have pootled around a rather lovely French market and really had my back put up by some old bag who started complaining that Vi's sunhat was flopping over her eyes.
BAG: She's dissapearing under her hat.
ME: *tight 'thankyou for stating the bleedin' obvious, now please fuck off' smile*
BAG: (in a pleading tone) she can't see.
ME: It keeps the sun out of her eyes.
BAG: She's not in the sun.
There is not a cloud in the sky today, and this was at lunchtime - really bloody bright. I had happened to stop in the shade of a market stall and - shock horror - hadn't woken Vi to remove her sunhat or push up the brim. Ooooh, call Social Services! BAG then must have finally read my irritated expression at her vague insinuations that putting a 3 month old baby in a wide brimmed cotton sunhat on a hot, bright day was somehow cruel, since she made a little jokey comment about Vi wanting to see what she could buy and scurried off. Seriously - why do total strangers feel the need to be so fucking intrusive? Why couldn't she just tell the truth - that she wanted to gawp at my pretty wee tyke but there was a big floppy hat in the way? guh.
Yes, Friday was spent Sans l'Homme et Bebe in Brighton. Was fun but knackering and I missed Hubs & Vi like Hell.
Things I learned on Friday:
Bingo really makes the time fly by even though it's full of really depressing looking people and stinks of fag ash.
Mika looks a bit like Stephen Mangan.
Mama Cherrie's is absolutely delicious but impossible to find.
Going out in a little summer dress might seem like a good idea at 7pm on a balmy late April evening but it makes the midnight walk back along the sea front bloody nippy.
Singing 'My Lovely Horse' at the top of your voice makes the long, cold walk feel much better.
You need no late night entertainment when you end up in a bar with a group of 50 somethings all Dad Dancing.
A seafront B&B might seem like a nice idea when you check in, but when it's a major thoroughfare and has two late night bars and a takeaway beneath it you might not get a great night's sleep.
So after a few hours sleep I bid Claire's hens adieu and, miraculously un-hungover, went back to Canters to see my little family and also Anna & Russell and Ian Harv & Sadie who had come down to visit. Plus Jools & Sylv in the evening. Good fun but bloody hectic. We were both abolutely knackered by the time everybody left. Vi slept straight for over 10 hours - very quietly as well, which did mean that I kept waking up in a panic, used to snuffling, shuffling, blanket kicking etc, and checking she was OK.
Husband has now taken his turn to abandon the homestead (he's going up to a film course in Brum) so I have pootled around a rather lovely French market and really had my back put up by some old bag who started complaining that Vi's sunhat was flopping over her eyes.
BAG: She's dissapearing under her hat.
ME: *tight 'thankyou for stating the bleedin' obvious, now please fuck off' smile*
BAG: (in a pleading tone) she can't see.
ME: It keeps the sun out of her eyes.
BAG: She's not in the sun.
There is not a cloud in the sky today, and this was at lunchtime - really bloody bright. I had happened to stop in the shade of a market stall and - shock horror - hadn't woken Vi to remove her sunhat or push up the brim. Ooooh, call Social Services! BAG then must have finally read my irritated expression at her vague insinuations that putting a 3 month old baby in a wide brimmed cotton sunhat on a hot, bright day was somehow cruel, since she made a little jokey comment about Vi wanting to see what she could buy and scurried off. Seriously - why do total strangers feel the need to be so fucking intrusive? Why couldn't she just tell the truth - that she wanted to gawp at my pretty wee tyke but there was a big floppy hat in the way? guh.
