Its all about the celebrations

2011-06-02, 7:45 p.m.
BiL came up trumps with a few sneaky pics of Treacle in Oliver � bit grainy and blurry (no flash allowed) but you can kind of get the gist. Here�s the �As long as he needs me� moment

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And here she appears to be winning an extended game of �my kids bigger�n your kid�.

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There�s surely no need for 11 year olds to vary QUITE so much in height, is there?

Tuesday

Today is my (our) wedding anniversary, which means I have now been officially shackled to the hairy, beer sodden, permanently aroused, hapless ninny that is L, for three whole years. Astonishing. Of course, we�d been unofficially shackled for six years or so beforehand so I guess its really pretty much the best part of a decade that he�s been siphoning off my cash, exasperating me to the point of having to hide all the sharp things in the house, and pandering to my every whim (including some new whims that I didn�t know I had) in the boudoir.

Seeing as 3 years of marriage = Leather Anniversary, I bought him a belt (with a little note saying he could spank me with it if it didn�t fit. It fitted. I don�t know how I feel about that). Then I went into town with the kids and got my hair cut.

Our regular hairdresser is pissing us about and has cancelled us twice in the last ten days or so. Jooj and I just wandered up the High Street until we saw a salon which didn�t look too busy. A nice wee girly cut our hair with no fuss nor bother and we look gorgeously fabulous. It cost no more than the regular hairdresser and the salon was much nicer too � R&B chart-toppers on the flatscreen, which kept Treacle amused whilst the wee girly snipped and job�s a good un.

At the moment Ive kind have decided not to re-bleachify my roots. Im kind of thinking of growing the blonde out � Ive had it for ten years or more now and it might be time for a change. I�ll live with it for a day or so and see how I feel. We�re off out to dinner tonight to the Turkish place in Chigley - haven�t got a new frock for the occasion but did buy some new underwear in Primark this morning so at least I now have a bra which fits me. By happy coincidence, this also means that I now have the regulation number of breasts (two) rather than the four I have been carrying around with me of late, by virtue of my ill-fitting brassieres cleaving my gazongas in twain and causing unpleasant overspill of alarming proportions - in case you cant envisage that, its something like this

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Fairly standard dress-code for Chigley, I�ll admit, but I do still like to at least ATTEMPT to rise above the hoi-polloi.

Thursday

The Turkish place was as yummy as I remembered from the last time we went there and we did jolly well STUFF ourselves with meze until we couldn�t actually walk. I finished off with a Turkish coffee, which is the only coffee I have ever had that has a texture - the bottom of the cup having the characteristic resemblance to the bottom of the Euphrates and, whilst I didn�t actually notice any Hittite or Urartu tribesmen fishing for carp on the banks of my cup, that may have just been because I wasn�t looking very closely. I was too busy chewing on my coffee. We had six meze between the two of us, a few beers and the coffee and it came to a fairly respectable �47, so there was still a little loot left over for a smallish stroll around the CIU clubs of Chigley, ending with our local one where I got into a fight (not fists! Im 44 ferchristsake) with a drunk woman who had taken upon herself to insult L and tell him that his beard and hair are �horrible�. And that he should �fucking well cut them off, they make you look stupid. And old�.

Nobody insults my husband except me, lady. Actually, I didn�t really need to write that bit, as Im pretty sure she knows that now. It was fun to see the mixture of awe and horror on the faces of the onlookers as I verbally flayed her sorry arse � I did stop short of utter humiliation, mostly because it kind of wasn�t sport any more once she�d burbled a few pathetic attempts at a comeback, but also because she�s the mother of one of my students and Im not desperate for a �Miss Stepfie DESTROYED Daisy�s mum in the pub the other night!� tale to go around the school, thanks very much. Even if its true.

Yesterday (Weds) was a quick trip to pick up some Jason Manford tickets for L�s birthday present. I like Jason Manford � he just reminds me of a bloke in a pub, telling silly stories. L likes him too, so all�s well. If you don�t get Jason Manford where you live, you might have a little taste of him here:

I also bought L a pair of reflexology socks (with all the pressure points marked on the underside) which I hope will mean that the next footrub I give him wont leave my hands smelling of Brie for three days afterwards. I can rub through the socks with impunity. Or he could wash his feet, I guess, but the socks are a more viable proposition.

Birthday cake has been made

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and half of it�s been eaten, just as a �holding snack� as we�re having takeaway Chinese later. We had to cancel the party we had planned for Saturday as too many people were away (don�t have a birthday in half-term, silly!) so we�ll reschedule that one for later in the summer or maybe skip it altogether and save it for next year�s Big Bonanza when L will be 50. June 2nd 2012 is also the Queens Diamond Jubilee and the BBC tell me �government had agreed to grant an additional bank holiday on Tuesday 5 June to provide a focal point for the celebrations. In addition, the traditional Bank Holiday at the end of May will, in 2012, be moved to 4 June to make it a four day weekend.� This means that we can party on 2nd June and be so hungover that it takes until the WEDNESDAY for us to be expected to be sentient. Result!

In other news, I still haven�t succumbed to the peroxide and my hair is still kinda dark. I still kinda like it.

Oh, and L has, courtesy of one of these little babies, been smoke-free for just over a week. Jeebus, Allah and all the various other deities-which-are-altogether-more-glamorous-but-even-harder-to-believe-in be praised. He�s still snoring like a walrus, wheezing like a pair o�rusty ole bellows and generally being more irritating than wearing tights when you�ve got thrush, but I am actually starting to enjoy�Nay, RELISH�kissing him.

In fact, I might do just that, quite a bit, later.

S
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