Meh. BF's gone to Music Live in Birmingham. I cant go as the kids are here this weekend. What's a bit galling is that BFs not even working up there - he's just on a jolly gathering important business contacts.
In an uncharacteristic spurt of optimism we have decided to forge ahead with plans for the new studio, regardless of all the shit that's flying around re the sale of BFs house etc. We figure that, for good or ill, the whole sorry business will be over soon and we can start having a life so BF is doing the research now instead of waiting for the money to come in and then not really knowing what to do with it (apart from pay off his ever-mounting pile of debt, of course). We've found some people who can help design it for us, and BF has been to the planning office to check if we will need to put in a planning application (we dont!). He was desperate to go to Birmingham as he wants to get some contacts in the companies that will help supply the big stuff we need but after ANOTHER 'little chat' about our finances I told him he couldnt go. We just cant afford �120 for a hotel (he HAS to stay in the same hotel as all the people he's hoping to schmooze)plus food and drink - particularly drink! - plus petrol for a 400 mile round trip.
It was all looking very bleak. Then I hit on a plan that would allow him to go. It was a gamble, a risky plan, but one I figured worth giving a go. I wasnt sure how to approach it as I knew he'd be horrified but, hell, it had to be worth a TRY!
me: hey baby, if you stayed in all week and didnt go to the pub, you'd save enough money to be able to go to Birmingham.
BF:..........(silence. and some very slow blinking).......
me:*encouraging smile*
BF:...........O................K.......
*cue Hallelujah Chorus*
And he did. He stayed in ALL week. This may not seem much of an achievement for you lot, but for BF, its nothing short of a miracle of proper Jesus-like proportions. In fact Lazarus himself went "Now fucking HELL! THAT's what I CALL a miracle." and had to have a sit down.
BF goes out every night. Every. Night. Usually only for an hour or so, sometimes longer. It fits in nicely with the girls bath-time (which he doesnt get involved in, for obvious reasons). He conducts all his business meetings in the pub - a throw-back from when he was married and she didnt like him having anyone back to the house, and whilst I have never really liked this in him, it was so ingrained into his personality that I never thought I would be able to do anything about it.
I know I make excuses for him and that doing that makes me just a little bit pathetic, but Im a grown woman and I made this choice. Despite all his many and varied failings, I still love him more than I thought it possible to love anything that didnt actually contain any of one's genes and he makes me feel like Im the most fabulous person in the whole wide world. Get over it.
I think the turning point was him realising that me saying "please dont go to the pub" is not the same as his ex-wife saying "You're not having any more drink" and pouring A WHOLE CASE OF BEER (24) down the sink while he was working in the studio, and then putting all the empty cans back in their little plasticky four-pack holders and back in the case. I dont mind him drinking. He still drinks more than I think is healthy but has cut down considerably since I first knew him. He still has a tendency to think that the answer to all life's problems can be found at the bottom of a glass but he's getting better and I think he's learning that not all women are evil. Or frigid.
So. He stayed in. Im extraodinarily chuffed.
The downside, of course, is that he's now gone to Birmingham and Im sat here on me Jack Jones doing fuck all. Bah.
And what a riveting day its been. Couldnt do the grocery shopping as I couldnt haul my lazy carcass out of bed and by the time we got to Lidl's the car park was completely full. We'll do it tomorrow after Treacle's swimming lesson instead. Back home, but with nothing for lunch. Found some bread and a tin of Heinz Cream of Tomato soup - where the fuck did THAT come from? Felt a bit like a mum who has found a spliff in a teenagers bedroom - brandishing it with one hand, the other on my hip..."who brought THIS into my house?...Hmm? HMMM?"
Anyway, we ate it. It was very nice.
After lunch, during which Treacle managed to flick tommysoup all down her Arran sweater (*sigh*), we went into town. Not crappy old Chigley, with its two streets of building socities and its half empty mall, but proper town - town of my birth, the shining jewel (ok, ok, marquise-cut perspex) that is ChavVille.
Jooj is working on a civic award scheme at her school. Too boring to go into here but she had to find herself a new hobby and she chose dressmaking. Ive made her make some design boards with styles, colours, textures etc on and she's spent a lot of time cutting and gluing and deciding not only what she likes and doesnt like but also WHY. We've cut a pattern for a skirt (after discussing what would suit her/be practical etc etc) and we were in town to buy some fabric. Considering she had the run of the place and a �5/metre maximum budget I think she did bloody well. Black boucle with an understated fuchsia check* at �3.99.
Also on the "to buy" list was a school coat. We'd spent some time discussing what to get before we went out so we wouldnt waste time dragging from shop to shop with me going "what about THIS one?" and her shaking her head and making a 'what on EARTH would make you think I'd like THAT, you sad old maniac' face. First stop Primark, where we picked up a coat in the ladies department, exactly as we'd described to each other, for 8 quid! Yay us! Personally its a bit too much like a black Artic sleeping bag for my tastes, but she likes it and it IS practical, and it WAS �8.
Diving lesson for Jooj after that, me and Treac sweltering in our coats on the poolside, then back home for tea. Remembered far too late that we hadnt done the grocery shopping and had to cobble together a dinner out of nothing. Tuna and broccoli pasta bake - surprisingly tasty, due to losing count a bit when I was adding the garlic.
BF phoned, but I was whiny and sulky about being on my own so Im guessing he'll phone back later for a proper chat.
And that's about it really. BF wants me to go to the All Souls service tomorrow at the church where his mum's funeral service was held. I desperately dont want to go, not least becasue I will have to take the girls with me, but am struggling to come up with a credible excuse. I think its because he really ISNT a religious man despite being spiritual and I have never been in a church with him unless it was for a hatch, a match, or a despatch so it seems a bit ODD to be being his representative at such a service. Any comments on this, I'd be very grateful, particularly from church-goers.
And that's my lot. More soon tho.
s
x
*on the way back in the car, she said "what made me choose it mummy, is that its very much like that Chanel suit we both liked in your magazine. If there's any left over, would you make me a shoulder bag to go with it?". Yay for daughters.
footnote: Slave just sent me a text telling me she's been shopping for sex toys with her man this afternoon and making a big thing of how there is an evening of CrazyMonkeySex on the cards chez Slave. She knows BF is away, the rotten cow. I will punish her with astonishing amounts of filing on Monday.
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