Raindrops on roses...

I feel as if I've eaten twice my body-weight in sugar over the last couple of weeks. That may, of course, be due in no small part to the fact that I have (probably) eaten my twice my body-weight in sugar over the last couple of weeks.

Not the brightest of things to do when that little african bird is becoming a much too frequent visitor, but hey, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do. And I reserve the right to eat whatever I want under the circumstances. It's gone 11.30pm on a Friday night and I'm sitting here trying to kill two birds with one stone: firstly, to write an entertaining post (about as likely right now as my finding I do fit into my pre-baby ski trousers after all), and secondly, to import various cd's of kids' stories onto my ipod. Quite why I'm prepared to consider subjecting myself to the Lion King and Chicken Little on holiday when I do anything to avoid putting them on at home I don't know, but I'm clearly over-tired because I'm doing it.

It's probably because I've been packing for the last two days. And I still haven't checked the toys that Boy #1 self-importantly stowed in his rucksack yesterday. He tells me he has all eventualities covered. This may well be true, if 'all eventualities' include a crocodile attack, a conversation with a passing paleontologist (I know that's not spelt right - so sue me) who wants to re-enact the no doubt frequent occurrence of a fight between a t-rex and a tricerotops with scale models, or the need to find a treasure island using a secret map where not only does 'X' mark the spot, but in fact covers most of the island.

But, although it feels as if I've been packing for the last two days, in actual fact it's only been since lunchtime today - but that's because I was still shopping for the things to pack until then.

And in reality, I haven't been properly 'packing'. No, I have been in charge of sorting out what we are going to take, making sure it's clean, wearable and accessable, putting it all in one place, policing that place to make sure Boy #2 doesn't start mountaineering up the piles of neatly stacked socks, pants and gloves, rescuing various items from Boy #1 who is so over-excited about our trip that everything has to be tried on repeatedly (especially the new red hat with the dingly dangly red bobble on the end), and checking twice to make sure we have everything we need (including the kitchen sink). The actual 'packing' had, of course, to be done by a man. One sock at a time, to maximise space-efficiency. Gosh, I'm lucky to have someone else to do the hard work, don't you agree?

In addition to the pre-preparation I also needed to sort out the money for our cleaner whilst we are away, get the keys to a neighbour, check the parking restrictions on our street to make sure that our car won't be towed whilst we're gone, and - this is the killer - get the flat into a fit state for our friends who are coming to stay whilst we're gone.

It's one thing making sure that everything is in a reasonable state of repair for when you get back from a holiday. It's another thing entirely to have your home in a fit state for strangers to view it, close up and personal, whilst you're not there. Suddenly the cobwebs in the office, the crumbs under the dining table, the smears on the door jambs, and the marks on the paintwork in the hall are rather higher on your to-do list than they might otherwise have been.

But not high enough for me to actually do anything about them, of course.


And finally, I leave you with a transcript of a conversation that took place over the last couple of days between myself and my beloved.


Me: Where are we flying from?

Husband: Heathrow.

Me: Are you sure?

Husband: Think so. I'll check later. Must go off and be important now... (OK, he didn't actually say that, but you get the gist...)


Some time later:

Me: Did you check where we're flying from?

Husband: Not yet. But it's Heathrow.

Me: I just want to be sure before I book a taxi.

Husband: Well, book it.

Me: But have you checked?

Husband: No.

Me: I'll wait.


The next day....

Me: I just wondered...

Husband: No, I haven't checked. I'll do it now - but it's Heathrow.


Some time later...

Husband: It's Gatwick.

Me: Right.

Husband: So, we'll drive then. Is there petrol in the car?

Me: No. Not since I didn't realise we were using it.

Husband: heavy sigh.

And this is my fault, because...?


Don't you just love going on holiday?