Reading my last post, it would seem that I have blamed my lax parenting on the ABSENCE OF EGG TIMERS. Outrageous. I am shamed.
Ahem. Moving on then, to Friday. After a whole half-day of quite a bit of working and only a little bit of facebook stalking/twittering/Elle perusal/cake-eating, I whipped out for a child-free walk to Waitrose via the Post Office.
[A word on British Post Offices. As per usual, the Post Office in Queensway had a strong whiff of wee. It is always a bit trampy, a bit wet-dog-smelling, and everyone in there always has a wild-eyed sweaty browed Michael-Douglas-in-“Falling Down” scent of barely-contained mania about them. Occasionally there are proper mutters in there, like the spitting walking-framed ancient Italian woman who swears at me every time she sees me, and the young fella who one time sat on the floor in the queue and refused to move and warned everybody in a loud voice that he would ‘soil himself soon’. The queue is always very, very long, and it is narrow so that the pushchair doesn’t quite fit, and I run over other people’s toes, and they shoot dark and angry looks at me, and scowl at the children. The children always shriek very loudly in there, and try to get out of the buggy and pull all of the pamphlets off onto the skanky floor. No one is happy in a British Post Office.]
Anyway, I took a little detour to Blockbuster in order to fill the house up with movies so that we will not fight over watching Arrested Development vs odd 80’s slightly pornesque violent movies with muffled sound that you find under the catchily titled Sky channel “Movies For Men”. And as I crossed the road onto my beloved Westbourne Grove, I accidentally caught sight of Pete Burns. He looked like this:
Eek! And then I thought that he is starting to resemble Madonna! See?
Eek again! And this naturally led me to wonder who would win in a fight. Although Pete is clearly quite mental and burly, I think Madonna would use those arms as ferocious weapons and overpower him with her pillowy cheeks. Imagine the dance-off! Ugh. It was all really a bit traumatic, when you are only going out for movies and milk. And I love Madonna, so it pains me to see her looking so oldyetyoung. The new Dolce ads are a case in point.
So that was Friday, which was supposed to end on a high note, with George Clooney in “Up in the Air”, GBK burgers on the couch, Oyster Bay Sauvignon blanc quaffed in a pseudo-binge fashion. But the baby got all cranky and woke up, and the movie was a bit dull, and then we had that dreadfully boring fight over the right way to clean up the kitchen. There are two ways to clean it up, of course. The proper way, where the surfaces are cleared, the dishes put away in the dishwasher and the bits of food and unidentifiable wet stuff wiped up. And there is the half-arsed way, which is where you push everything to the back of the bench, do a big yawn, stretch, scratch yourself then head off to bed.
So we had that fight. Again. And woke up all not-speaking and sulky, and headed off in different directions – me and two kids to Borough Market, Mark to (haha) Hyde Park. (Going to Hyde Park for me is like going to the office on the weekend – that’s why I put the “haha” in, dudes.) It was all just a bit teenage and boring, but I do maintain that cleaning the kitchen properly is just a nice, kind and grown-up thing to do.
Questions to put to The Readership:
1, Does the kitchen clean-up disagreement warrant a cranky weekend, or should I just let it go?
2. Where does one put the full stop after putting a sentence in brackets?
3. Is it wrong to eat two-thirds of your birthday cake by yourself?
4. Is it wrong to have had to buy yourself the said birthday cake?
Answers on a postcard, please.