Covid, it seems, isn’t quite done with us yet. But why did it have to stamp its feet and rear its head over the Jubilee weekend?
I wasn’t planning a huge street party, not a hint of bunting anywhere, because we have a busy hospitality business and we had three weddings booked in.
I mean, who doesn’t want to get married on a sunny long weekend after years of postponements?
Situation? Fraught
Two staff down meant all hands on deck. Himself, thankfully on his days off, stepped up to allow me to be only three persons instead of the four demanded.
It’s probably just as well I have multiple personalities as there are only so many places even I can be at one time.
We don’t tend to take on a lot of weddings but for some reason we ended up with three on the same weekend.
One couple forgot to tell us it was the village gala day so as himself and two other staff arrived to set up, they could neither get parked or into the still-locked hall.
I wasn’t the most popular but I cannot really take the blame for either of those factors now, can I?
Busy times in the café meant everyone was a little overtired and fraught.
In comes Hurricane Biggest Kid
Imagine our absolute delight when biggest kid announced, due to the bank holiday weekend, her belongings HAD to be out of her university halls. Before 10am. On the Sunday.
The mister, realising I was in bits, dragging himself back off the couch and into the Mummy Bus to haul ass down to Edinburgh and sort it all out.
God bless the Queen? Aye, if you want. But for me the weekend has all been about God Bless the Big Man.
Him being on chuckle brother duty meant we weren’t going to the wedding we’d been invited to. Not on my own!
Sneaking out of parties
Ironically, remembering how I used to sneak out my house to go to parties, I shoved on some clean clothes, popped in, made sure anyone that needed to know I was there had seen me, and snuck out.
I am now the person that sneaks out of parties to go to home. Via Tesco for essentials, paracetamol and crisps.
Eldest naturally went on a night out upon their return.
Leaving behind a car full of utter cr*p and two broken parents. I wistfully remember having an epidural when giving birth to all three of my kids.
Is there an epidural for this?
I am now thinking of starting a petition to demand another one, per child, at some stage during their teenage years. Please? I’d have gladly taken all three hits this weekend alone.
Our wee house has, for the past year, been rather challenging with ongoing repairs meaning rooms of belongings flung all over the place.
We’d finally got some semblance of normality back, only to lose it just as quickly.
Boxes of out-of-date biscuits. Eleventy billion pairs of trainers. Rucksacks with toilet brushes stuff into them. Heaps of unused crockery and kitchen equipment everywhere.
Where is your cutlery? I threw it out, I didn’t think I’d need it when I came home……… <insert withering eyeroll here>
Saviours of tomorrow?
What happened to the generation of today being the saviour of tomorrow?
I shut my face when I was told rather sharply it’s because of me and my ‘age group’ they have to save the planet in the first place.
Just another failing on my part to add to the extensive list being passed round, apparently.
We finally had Monday off and the couch provided welcome sanctuary.
Just remember the laundry…
We had planned to do something as a family. They wanted to go out with their pals.
Whenever you feel like there is no one there for you, remember their laundry. Their laundry will ALWAYS be there for you.
Maybe we could tackle the garden? Deal with overdue household admin? Ensure the kids’ stuff was ready for Tuesday’s return to school.
Did we do any of that? Not at all. They’re going into third and fifth year, surely it’s time for me to relax?
I ironed a couple of shirts. Just in case. Situation ‘start as you mean to go on’?
We all know that’s a lie. One ironed shirt per academic year is my absolute limit.
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