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Fam & Fab Friends

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Movie Quote of the Day:  “Sometimes the most real things in the world are the things that we can’t see” – The Polar Express

Song Lyric of the Day:  “You think you’re mad, too unstable” – West End Girls, Pet Shop Boys

After quite a hectic day at work on Friday I was looking forward to going to Chester for my fab friend’s business launch open evening. There was to be alcohol and nibbly things and good company. I had a dress and high heels in my suitcase.


I was at the mercy of the train schedule though and exacerbated by the late return from school of eldest Childerbeast, whose class had been kept back for being noisy.  This meant we missed our chosen train by 5 minutes, then our connection in Manchester by 2 minutes and our third connection by under 2 minutes. Cue a 40 minute wait in the desolation of Newton-le-Willows station.  Pissing with rain by now, so had to resort to man-wee-stinking waiting room, lit with a 30,000 watt bulb.  Having not heard back from any of the people I was trying to contact, I was now apoplectic with frustration and considering bombing it all off and heading back to Sadford.  It would be too late, by the time we arrived, to go to the launch night as it would have finished.

Bugger, fuck, buggeration, arse, bloody hell and shite!


I stuck with it though and we eventually arrived at The Moss just after 8pm.  I could have got to Hertfordshire in the same length of time!

By this time I’d managed to make arrangements to see my fab friend on Saturday instead and to meet another friend in local pub for a couple of drinks at 9pm instead.

**and breathe**

Walked into the local and a room full of men stopped talking and stared me down over the tops of their pints.  A tumbleweed moment.
A hearty greeting of recognition from the Landlord sent a murmur of approval from the brooding bar that it was ok.  I was indeed a lone woman, but seemingly local, so it was ok and they went back to their pints.

My friend was sitting in the back bar with an excellent choice of gin and tonic already waiting for me.  Good call on the William Chase.  Less elegant was the novelty Christmas jumper when he took off his coat, but hey ho, you can’t have everything.  At least you had your top on I guess dude, after last weekend eh? 


Post pub and parting company with my festively attired pal, I ran into my brother and bro-in-law lurking about outside, so we walked back to The Moss together.  Mum, Dad and my sister were already sat around the kitchen table hammering wine.  I was glad I’d only had 2 gins and no longer drink wine. I knew from past experience that this could get messy. 

I’m not sure any description of the conversation could do it comedy justice. I wish I’d filmed it or live-streamed it on Facebook or something.  Needless to say, my dad was essentially bemoaning the loss of the use of the word ‘spastic’ in the English language. Not as a derogatory term you understand. But when my sister, several wines in at this stage, got on her soapbox, Dad just took the opportunity to wind her up.  I was just sat laughing in that way you do when no sound comes out but your whole body is shaking. My brother, opposite me, doing the same and occasionally, and unhelpfully, making the internationally known ‘spaz face’ & associated noise.  My sister’s husband sat with head in hands, knowing at any point he might have to intervene as his wife was banging the table with her fists and fiercely defending the disabled community (rightly so).  But just letting herself be wound up off the clock by my mischievous dad.  I decided at this juncture to throw Tourettes Syndrome into the mix. My brother brought up the term ‘cracker’ as a derogatory name used by black people to white people (I’d never heard of it but it’s true – I googled it later). Cue my bro-in-law trying to lighten the atmos by calling my mum a “Fucking spaz cracker mother fucker”.  I almost snorted my tea all over myself at this point.

I guess you had to have been there. It was family gold though. Particularly when Dad retold his story about having to take the local wheelchair-bound children out for walks/wheels around Liverpool on a Sunday when he was at school at The Bluecoat as a boy.  His re-enactment of their reactions as he and his mates raced them down a steep  hill was a joy to behold, while my sister’s outrage at this, caused me to snort aloud anew.


I took myself off to bed at 1230 when the conversation took a political turn but I could hear them debating away until; about 3am!

Next morning I got up with my neicelings at some unearthly hour for a Saturday. We held whispered conversations over cereal and then snuggled up to watch a DVD until everyone else got up.  They all headed back to Manc while me, mum and the Childerbeast ventured into town.  Am not sure what we were thinking by going into Chester on a Saturday , 2 weeks before Christmas!  Hectic isn’t the word.  I could have happily jabbed several shoppers in the backside as I tried to weave my way through the masses.

Had to have a Nana nap when we got back to The Moss.  Seriously didn’t want to get out of bed for tea or venture back out but I forced myself.  Glad I did, as it was great to see my fab friend.  Saw her amazing new Health & Wellbeing clinic. I am so proud of her for doing so well. Looking forward to letting her loose on my face when she’s done her blend therapy training in the new year.
I loved the way she was so delighted when, of the options offered for our evening’s entertainment, I said I’d rather stay in than go out drinking.  #SQUADGOALS indeed.

So we spent a most pleasant evening, setting the world to rights, sipping booze in a civilized manner and laughing at offensive memes,  while I was courted by the pet budgie who took a bit of shine to me and wouldn’t leave me alone.


This pretty boy loves me. X

Left at a reasonable hour and was in bed for 11pm.  Journey home today was far less painful than Friday. Other than my tights falling down continually so I had a perpetual low hanging gusset (a pitfall of having lost some weight) and a jobsworth little Hitler of a ticket jockey.  He could’ve done with a festive jumper or perhaps a sprig of holly up his arse!  Bellend!

Am still coughing up phlegm and disgustingness and I seem to have lost my sense of taste.  Slightly disappointing, with Christmas around the corner with lots of yummy things to eat.  It’s been about 7 weeks now.  Antibiotics worked in as much as I don’t actually feel ill but don’t seem to have shifted the 2 kilos of snot that seem to be laying upon my chest.


Thank fuck we break up on Friday.  I need a sodding holiday!

pictures courtesy of google images


About TheDHW

Not loathed by totally everyone so that's good right?

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