It happens every year. Right around now, eight weeks out from our holiday, things conspire to remind me that we are actually going. Having booked stuff months ago, written up a plan of sorts, and other than the daily subliminal knowledge of the trip getting me through every stinking day at work, it is filed away, out of focus.
So when things happen like, getting a reminder that the balance is due on my car hire, and then realising that I needed to send the cheque off for the villa balance last week, the trip is brought sharply and quickly back into focus. Minor issues like, wondering where the spending money is coming from, who will look after the dog, his snot, and the gaggle of cats are front and centre after being ignored since we booked the trip.
In fact this wake up call started late last week, when Tom, the kind soul letting us rent his DVC points, emailed me with a confirmation of our reservation, and an offer to check us in ten days before arrival, but on Friday I was still in the eye of the storm at work, and it wasn’t enough to pull me out of it. Work is a maelstrom of change right now, and that change has landed a whole load of new people and problems on me, for which I have received a massive pay rise, oh wait, no, that last bit is wrong. However, in the relative calm of a three day weekend, I have luxuriated in the writing and sending of cheques for large sums of money, and even begun to consider the reality of going somewhere we love, and being warm for more than three days on the trot!
So after a very busy week, comprising of long days at the office, followed by starting work again at home in the evening, all the changes happened, things went pretty smoothly, and so far I’ve been able to avoid any work for nearly all of the weekend.
On Saturday night, we went to our local pub (I say local, it is too far to walk, and guess who drove?) to watch a band. They were the Faux Fighters, not surprisingly a Foo Fighters tribute band. We went with my brother, sister in law and niece, and took our girls and one of Rebecca’s friends too. It was a shame I was driving, as I needed a stiff drink after paying £6 each to get in (we actually negotiated a £1 discount each based on the sheer volume of people in our party). I once watched Go West at the Manchester Apollo for less than that. Granted that was in 1986 but still!!
They were pretty good. My brother and I, being seasoned musos of course, were a little disappointed with the drummer, but apart from that they sounded like the real thing pretty much which is all you can ask for a tribute band, and they certainly got the crowd going. So much so that one berk, whilst dancing and jumping around launched his beer over half of the audience, including myself and Emily. Sweet retribution came to him later though as he was ejected from the pub, and soon after arrested for fighting outside (not faux fighting, real fighting!). Top night son, well done!!
Rebecca enjoyed herself by harassing a couple of teachers from her school. I say teachers, but apparently they were “technicians” who run the events, sound systems and all that stuff (it is a media college so they have sound studios, TV studios and all that jazz, although I don’t think they are limited to just jazz!!). These poor lads had come out for a bit of a pogo and a drink only to find two fourteen year old girls dancing next to them.
Now these technicians are only young, I’d say in their early twenties and one of them, according to Rebecca is, “dead fit”. Conscious of the need to avoid a court case or newspaper scandal I had my eye on her all night. I wasn’t worried about him!!!
The gig finished late, and by the time we got home, got everyone to bed, and I’d had my tea and toast whilst catching up on the Champions League final, it was nearly two when I got to bed. This led directly to an event, again not seen since about the time I went to watch Go West for £6. On Sunday I had a lie in until lunch time. Granted, I was not technically asleep for all that time, but the sheer joy of lying in bed and not having to get up for that amount of time was superb, and probably a reflection on the sheer hard slog the last few weeks at work have been.
Having wasted half the day in bed, Louise and I then wasted the rest of it by lazing around (aside from Louise driving the girls to a music festival in Darwen) and then going to see the Hangover 2 at our local Cineworld. Let’s get the important stuff out of the way. Yes, it was an ice cream and pick n mix bonanza again, but I have to admit that I felt very sick before I’d made any sort of dent in the latter, and had to on board a few of Louise’s nachos to counter act the limitless amounts of sugar coursing through my every shrinking arteries.
The film itself was very good. It of course followed very closely the same formula as the first, but unless my memory of the first is unclear, this one is much darker, ruder and has loads more sex and swearing in it. Top drawer!!
Once I had quelled the urge to vomit, found some insulin and necked half a bucket of coke (diet) the film had quite a few laugh out loud moments, and not many films can say that.
So after picking the girls up from their festival (Louise did that), we had a late tea (no dessert, I’m not an animal), crashed on the couch, and watched some Man v Food. Luckily, I had overcome my aversion to anything with sugar in it by the time he rolled out the deep-fried cheesecake on a stick. My powers of recovery are such that given half a chance, at that point I could quite easily have done a fair slice of that.
I often curse my slow metabolism as being the reason that I am prone to pile on a few pounds, because as you know, my eating habits are beyond reproach.
So with Monday here, and no work, another day of not doing a lot meanders along. We’ve had two of the girl’s friends sleeping over this weekend of course, nothing changes there, and as soon as I’m done here I shall be having the daily chat with Emily about how much revision she has/hasn’t/will/won’t be doing today.
Eight weeks and counting, or if you prefer, 58 days. Count with me?
Till the next time……
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