Spent a pleasant weekend down south last weekend, visiting old school friends. Not as many as I would have hoped to meet, but the ones I did see made up for the lack of enthusiasm from the rest.
Balls to them.
We caught up on who works where and with who. How our kids are. Where we’ve all been on holiday etc. We discussed Star Wars and crammed as much ‘plego’ as we could into a tub in Wilkinsons, using a plant pot to keep the lid in place. There was loose threat of giving me a makeover as I scoured the shops for a hoodie (because I don’t have enough already). I kyboshed that idea, fearing some kind of Pretty Woman/Sweetest Thing Movie Montage Scenario. We had a decent dinner and had accidental espresso martinis and all got home in one piece, without hangovers the next day.
Tomorrow is GCSE results day. Eldest offspring is quietly optimistic. I am sure she will do fine, probably better than fine. Certainly better than me and Bman did at that age. She is going into school first thing to collect them and then meeting us at the train station, for tomorrow is also Shambala day. 4 days of what could go either way for me. Could be a glitter laden cider fest of joy and dancing. Or… feeling morose and pondering the meaning of it all from within my sleeping bag, whilst muttering “Man I hate camping”.
I’ll let you know… Xx