... was a long one! (Oh, err, missus!)
Of course, because this is England, it was grey and drizzly and not as warm as it could be, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't marvellous. I mean. A long weekend IS a long weekend. And here's what happened.
1) I was on time for the pub quiz! On time! That's note worthy in itself, but I suspect that anyone not used to my poor time keeping won't be wowed by that. The thing is that not only was I on time, but I was also useful. I was not a spare wheel who played the role of "nodding dog" at the end of the table whilst other people supplied the right answers, as I am most weeks, but I was a useful, question answering, information supplying team member. As such I can confirm that Mr Tickle is orange, post boxes in Spain are yellow, and that the punchline to the Joke Of The Week is "The stakes are too high!" (Chuckle chuckle).
2) The Lovely Gillian couldn't make the quiz (which is not good news, obviously) because she and her husband, The Equally Lovely Garry are fostering a weeny baby girl (which is good news). A baby (a proper weeny crinkly squeaky baby, I mean. Not one of these part-baked small people, but a small, one-week-old baby) must, if you are a foster carer, be the gold at the end of the rainbow, and I am just thrilled for them. I've not yet had the chance to go around for a cuddle (the baby and Gillian), but when I go, I'll obviously be smitten (with the baby and Gillian).
3) Whilst normally, on Friday, I set the alarm for a decent time and hop (fall) out of bed bright and early (slowly and resentfully) this week I decided that I needed a snooze, so I allowed myself the luxury of a lie in. I was woken by a text message from Amelia, wondering if I fancied Doing Lunch. well if that isn't the whole point of not working on a Friday, I don't know what is! So I hot footed to Sainsbury's and bought a multitude of fabulous nice things, and we decided to just graze on cheese, bread and tomatoes in the garden, with copious amounts of coke. And. We. Were. Happy!
4) There were a few things that I tried to do on Friday afternoon, but none really came off, so, tapping in on a bit of found time, I cleared out my bedroom, pulling everything out of all my cupboards and drawers, throwing away holey socks and grey pants, and putting chunky jumpers away for the summer. My room is now as ordered as it can be, given that I don't actually have any bedroom furniture still, and I know where everything is. A miracle!!
5) Saturday was the greyest of grey days. I am going on a swanky day out in a couple of weeks time (more to follow) for which I need a new frock, so I decided I'd hit Kingston and shop, shop, shop. By the time I got off from the bus stop to the town centre, the rain had socked up my jeans to the knees, and down my hair, sticking it to my forehead. Hard, under the circumstances, to think "GLAMOUR." I tried on a heap of things, but struggled to see myself promenading, champagne in hand, in any of them, so in the end bought some pick and mix and a lottery ticket and came home. Oh well. Maybe next time.
6) Amelia's smallest, the fabulous G, made a request for a sleepover at my house some time ago, and arrangement which would offer him and me a bit of playing time, and his mother a bit of quality time with her fella, Curtis. I collected him and we came home to watch DVDs and eat biscuits. (Coraline was ok, but Planet 51 was ace). In the kitchen, whilst cooking his tea, G let out a small fart, and looked at me in a challenging way. "Aren't you going to say "excuse me"?" "Curtis never does."
7) Eurovision. The annual battle of wills. I say I won't watch it ever year. It's truly dreadful. But then I click on, just for a minute, and end up watching to the end. Poor old England. Poor old us. Last position. Again. Poor old us.
8) Sunday lunchtime on a bank holiday weekend is, surely, the most luxurious time in the world. I met with some friends for lunch at a pub in Wimbledon to watch the football, have a drink and enjoy a long lunch. One thing lead to another. And I got home at 11pm. Pah well. It's a long weekend. What's a girl to do?
9) So I had a slow start to today. A nice big stodgy breakfast and a long chat with my mother on the blower. And then a nice walk to The Rookery, a secret (not very secret) garden at the top of Streatham Common with a friend, before retiring to the pub and setting the world to rights. I'm sure that Bank Holidays are meant to be about more wholesome pursuits than quenching a hangover with Merlot, but it works for me.
10) And now, as I type this, I watch Glee. I know it's trashy, and teeny, and all, but it's becoming my dirty little secret. Why was there no Glee club when I was at school? Bugger that! Why isn't there a Glee club in Tooting now?! Perhaps it can be my new project.
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