Ready for a nice sit down

 

Good evening, one and all. I come to you this evening, as usual, completely pooped. I am getting too old for this rushing about. This week we went to Bristol to visit FOW1. That was very nice. I do think that FOW1 - a man who is in the prime of life himself - forgets that HOH and I are old fogeys. We arrived in Bristol with the intention of having a teeny nap before the festivities began. However, FOW1 had other ideas, and he had a timed route march - most of it uphill -  in mind. 

We started off in a pub for a quick drink before FOW1 informed us that we were about to be late for the table that he had booked in the local Italian. (That was the biggest pizza that I have ever seen. I thought it might be too big for me, but I didn't want to upset anyone, so I finished it anyway. I'm very sacrificial in that way.) Then we were off to see Fran Lebowitz. For those not in the know. Lebowitz is an American satirist. She hates almost everyone, but hates them in a very charming and funny way.  Famously, offline, she does not have a mobile or an Internet connection. Born in the Fifties, she talks about being brought up - very happily - by parents who neither sought nor were interested in her opinion on anything. So, for instance, she was never asked what she thought they should be having for the evening meal, or what she would like to do today, or whether she was anxious at all. Her parents were also smokers who would drive the car with her sitting on their knees in the front of the car with no sign of a seat belt. I recognised a lot of those things in my own childhood. I remember telling my Mum that I was bored and being told, "If you are bored, I suggest you find something to do". Different times, I suppose.  

If my kids said that they were bored, it was my job to spring into action and provide cornflake boxes to cut up and paint, or maybe a small pet for everyone to stare at. I'll be honest, I have never really seen the point of hamsters or guinea pigs. (If you have one and it is your soulmate, I can only apologise. My daughter and her university flatmate shared a hamster that they loved, naming him after a character in Hamilton, the Musical. He hated them both and never let them pick him for his whole life.) Actually, thinking about it, I had a hamster, well, sort of. He appeared in my bedroom, in the middle of the night. Well, I say appeared. I would lie down to sleep in the dark, and I could hear something moving around. I would shout out, and my Mum would come in. Obviously, as soon as she switched the light on, the hamster must have stopped stock still. So, for a while, I was the only person who heard it, and I was convinced that I was having a small nervous breakdown.  We caught it eventually, which was just as well because I think my mother was thinking of getting an exorcist in, and put it in a cage, but it was completely feral and picking it up was like trying to hold a handful of wasps. 

Speaking of crafts, Messy Church is back! yay! Yesterday, as I said, I was quite tired and arrived at Messy to find that I was not only doing the edible craft but that I was also in charge of the allergy table. As the name suggests, this is the table for children with allergies, and I find the responsibility crushing. I have fever dreams the night before, where I am doing chest compressions on a child's heart, singing "Staying Alive" to try and get them to breathe, because I have got confused and given them soya. In fact, this is a very unlikely scenario because all the allergy children are accompanied by parents who supervise everything, but that doesn't stop me from being jumpy. 

Anyway, we were making cake pyramids (see the photo). I'm not entirely sure why; I must have missed it. Obviously, Joseph will have been there somewhere, and we did play "Walk Like an Egyptian" (No one did the dance. I'm afraid), but it seemed to go very well.  I'm really sorry, but when Messy Church comes back, it always makes me feel that Christmas is on the way - a bit like Strictly. I tried to watch Strictly. I couldn't. I only knew Karen Carney and the lady from ER. I find it embarrassing. Sorry. I know I have a tendency to the miserable. I'll miss Sewing Bee. I liked the lady who won it. Do you mind my saying that I was really glad that Kit didn't win it? I think that when you are looking at Patrick - a man with his own tailoring business on Savile Row - and you are saying "I don't need to be told how to make a pair of trousers", you will probably find that you are setting yourself up to be taken down a peg or two, as my mother would have said. Do you think they would mind me saying? Maybe it all just came over badly. I am certain that reality TV is a terrible mistress given half a chance. 

Right, I am off to have a read and watch Match of the Day. I'm still tired, and I was on Coffee this morning at church with the industrial dishwasher that is proving to be my nemesis. I asked our church caretaker about getting it working, and he said, "Basically, the rule is, if you open it and get your face wet, you have opened it too early." Right. Thanks, Graham. Helpful and hilarious.  Have a great week, all of you. And Graham.