Incidents that happened between January and March

Well, strictly speaking for the pedants out there, the tail end of December (28th to be precise).

Picture this, the gluttonous after festive period where you don't know what day or even month it is. You only know you're not due back in work yet. I jest, student midwifery is relaxing to the holiday period as a naked streaker in a lion pit.... happily putting away the to-do list until the 3rd load of Christmas pots have been soaked for another day. There is wine. Lots of wine. And a debit card.

So here I am. In France. With an over stimulated over tired (and quite frankly far too fidgety for the metal bunk bed I'm laying perilously underneath) Small. A shit ton of shopping in the hope that I shan't spend a small fortune in Disneyland tomorrow, and a snow white dress placed just so. Because I did really well at the not feeding into this crypto-facist-fake-forced-stereotyped-gender Disney princess shit... (Wifeyo, 2019 -ta Rhi!)

Not quite the comedy of errors as my last drunken holiday buying escapade, we may only hope.
Time will tell.

She managed a pose or two at least, and 15000 steps before turning in, 3 trains, many silent 'thank yous' to the Giffgaff gods for my data and GPS support, I shan't be taking any tired legs shit when we got the motherland on Sunday. Enough to know that my shoes are crap and I'd have done better strapping some tyres to my tired cankled feet for the next 5 days.

Bon nuit. (I'm being classy because I'm annoyed at myself for not being awake enough to sample the mystery wine I slipped in the basket earlier).

I'm preempting Technicolor nightmares already....

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Covid jail day 4- Bush fruit and shit puns

Hearing the gasps of shock upon stating that Small has been foraging for raspberries outside, gave it a fair 5 minutes before admitting that the fruit picking was from our garden. It would appear that in the 15 years that some previous owners lived here, they developed a penchant for bush fruit -snort- including gooseberries, and what I discovered following a very bitter mouthful wasn't lethal but in fact blackcurrant. What do I do with a fuck tonne of blackcurrants? Periodically affirming that I'm not the shittest Mom in a 50 mile radius as she's feeling incredibly smug with the haul, I had to force myself not to laugh in her face as she badly washed then wolfed more than a couple of aphids along with these garden jewels. Day 2 of covid jail saw me in more than a small tangle. Who knew covid would give me the coccyx of an aged Chippendale and ankles of a hockey player? Maybe that's just too much enthusiasm demonstrating weird and wonderful birthing positions. In any s

Day 3: Gin, shit, and jelly snakes

I thought my luck was in.... there being a distinct geographical anomaly of the GPS Reg-tracker of the Facebook to TripAdvisor continuum. Enough to have thought the stars may be shining on me and that he could have another bar 2 streets away. Wishful thinking but spurred on by the thought of a strong wifi connection AND baked beans for Small, I set off. He did reply to my message, and Facebook post, and friend's email. I shall put le grand opening in my diary, for 83 days' time. Good old Reg. But all was not lost! Hark! English people in the hotel! I lurked over the neighbouring table like a vulture circling over it’s next dying meal, spotting a gap I put my big girl pants on- ‘are you English?’ They are. And are visiting a relative for Christmas and eating in the restaurant for the night and about as sympathetic as. Bet they’re Brexiteers. But Christmas songs are playing, there’s the fancy table clothes laid out, maybe they’re ramping it up for the Big Day, and I’ve ju

Day 6: See, I'm not always whining! I could even (after enough booze) book something similar again!

Distinct lack of Insta-twats today, apart from their little paddy this evening, slamming doors and shouting profanities whilst walking away. Not sure what it reminds me of most, the Toddler in the midst of rage or the Teabag that was. Only difference is one pisses herself when she gets angry that she can’t understand (and the other.... we'll just leave that there). We’ve had a really awesome day. And I’ve got that warm fuzzy feeling that oxytocin, reconnecting with my Small piece, and having too much gin to put in the case home- brings. So this will either be short and sweet, or ridiculously boring. Either way I’m sure the blog will be falling by the wayside, as far less shits are given when things go better than expected. And let’s just say here, the bar was definitely set with the demonstrable shitstorm that the past 4 days have been, so in advance for our lack of catastrophe, I apologise. I managed to buy not one but two pairs of shoes today, mentally resolving to not g

Mirth and crumbly cheese

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