Boring weekend

2005-11-14, 8:36 p.m.
1st entry of the day

The weekend cometh�.and the weekend goeth. Bugger.

Saturday: picked Jooj up from her sleepover, narrowly missing the dreaded MiniMe and thus negating the hour or so I�d spent making myself look fabulous (and putting coverstick on my big spot, which at the time was resolutely refusing to yield up any gifts to my intensive jabbing, probing and (on one occasion) sticking a big dressmaking pin right into the middle of its pulsating core. The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. BF was at a session (as opposed to �on a session� which is entirely a different animal) so it was just me and the wee girlies all flippin day.

Jooj made the lunch (handily using up some of our stockpile of tinned soup � hooray for BF) and Treacle assisted in the construction of a huge pile of kedgeree for supper. Kedgeree is one of my specialities so should have been delish but sadly out precarious financial position meant that it was a little light on fishy content and rather high on rice. Still, we scoffed in the manner of Chinese peasants (probably) and had ice cream for dessert to make us feel better.

Sunday had many crappy bits: Going to Toys R Us being the main one. Jooj has set her heart on some Rock Angelz Bratz stuff, which goes against the grain a bit as, as far as I can see, its just Barbie from a crappy neighbourhood. She found a little playset that she was really taken with, despite my hoots of laughter as it was a recording studio � complete with mixing desk and booth and stuff. Oddly enough, it didn�t come with empty pizza boxes, crates of wiring in a big tangle or a fat and greasy morose engineer with a cute little button in his back that you could press to hear authentic recording studio comments ("That�s flat as fuck/is there any more beer/you guys suck/Oh wait a minute, I wasn�t recording/another twenty minutes and you�re into double-time" etc etc).

In case you�re wondering, we have a recording studio in our house (a teeny one at the moment until we can do the conversion works next summer, then it will be HUGE and state-of the-art and expensive looking and noisy as hell) and Ive spent a fair bit of time in ours and others in the time Ive been with BF � particularly when he was recording his album which meant we lived in studios for weeks and weeks and weeks. At no time do I recall a booth made from shiny red plastic, nor a drumkit with a heart-shaped bass drum.

All the while we were looking at the display there was a "rock" tune playing on a 30 second loop at ear-splitting volume for one to get the full Rock Angelz Recording Studio vibe. Jooj says "I wonder who this is singing mum, its, like soooo cool". Of course, I pointed out that it was some dumbass session singer getting paid jack shit per hour and who was probably crying with the certain knowledge that her career was like SO over. Incidentally, when BF does jobs like that (which he does do, the mercenary) he calls it turd polishing; making something lovely out of a pile of shit.

As Im typing this I can hear BF downstairs playing the piano which he does bloody well for a guitarist. I love his piano playing. He says it sucks. I asked him once when he�d learnt to play piano and he said "I didn�t". Turns out he never had a piano lesson in his life but just �picked it up as the principle�s quite easy once you understand musical structure�. The smart-arse.

Anyways, when we got back the girls wanted to go roller skating and disappeared out into the street while I did some important mum stuff (had a cigarette and plotted the evening�s descent into the amoral abyss with BF as the willing tool of my depravity).
I went to check on them about half an hour later and discovered they had gone all of about ten feet from our gate. They SO suck at skating. This is a source of much pain to me as, growing up in Chav Ville in the early 80�s there really was nothing else to do except go to the ice-rink or roller skate outside your house in order to get better at stuff you could later show-off with at the ice-rink. If you ever meet an early middle-aged person who seems disproportionately good at ice-skating considering how cool they are, chances are they are from Chav Ville. We have an uber-cool friend (Male. And not gay) who can do the full �figure skating leaping in the air doing twirls and shit� stuff on account of his ma paying for lessons when he was a teen in the mistaken belief it would keep him off the streets. Unfortunately, the streets were in the ice-rink at the time so it wasn�t really helping.

Watched the girls for a bit, proffering advice on the correct placement of feet etc, fucking difficult when one hasn�t got skates on oneself. Miming skating whilst wearing a pair of baby blue suede pointy mules just doesn�t cut it, especially in my skating outfit of skin tight drainpipe jeans and BFs beige jumbo fleecey oversweater thingy. All the neighbours came out to watch at various stages (well, we are new to the neighbourhood and do appear to be adding a little local colour, what with our partying and chasing each other with the hose pipe and midnight cha-cha-cha-ing on the drive under the security light and me calling the girls in for dinner by whistling through my fingers and building a cairn when the cat died and cleaning the car to a soundtrack of The Greatest Air Guitar Album in the World Ever). The girls shuffled around the pavement in 8 feet bursts accompanied by squealing, falling in the mud, hurting themselves quite a lot and hanging onto fences and bushes and bits of neighbour etc until we got cold and went in for tea and biscuits.

Then BF came home and we had a big English roast dinner and cherry pie and the kids went to bed and then we had sex. Woo Hoo.




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