Good Morning my dears! And what a lovely morning. A long weekend stretching out in front of us with the promise of lie-ins, papers, boozy long lunches….oh wait. We have children now! It’s different!
So, It will basically be a 4 day marathon of car journeys and traffic jams followed by sugar highs and crashing lows, another cold dinner as you supervise the eating of toddlers (I don’t mean actually eating toddlers, I mean ensuring that the contents of their plate don’t end up on the floor of Carluccios as you try to hold a normal conversation with friends-we’ve all been there no?!) and returning home more knackered than you were when you started. No bother, memories are made of this…
Anywho, this weekend has a brilliant twist. Me and the hubster are going to a wedding. Sans kids.
We are heading off to Breacon to witness the coming together in matrimony of two dear friends, Sarah and Dan. I used to work with both of them and Sarah lived with us for six months which was wine fuelled and lovely!
We will know only the bride and groom at the wedding so, I was thinking about creating a whole new identity for us. I’m not talking Walter White when things went bad, I’m talking more creating the identity you sometimes wished you had. You know, the sort where you can wear white jeans knowing that, if they get dirty that will be solely down to you spilling a chilled glass of Pinot down them as opposed to having a mid thigh tide mark of general grubbiness thanks to a toddler pulling at you saying muuuuuuuuuuma, mummmmmmmmma are you listening to me? mid every conversation!
I’m talking a handbag which will not result in a permanent stoop thanks to the including everything but the kitchen sink just in case.
I’m thinking sky high heels even on gravel and…wait for it….a Sunday morning lie in with chocolate for brekkie and a hot cup of tea.
That’s what I’m talking about people.
NB- I am uploading this entry late…we have now endured said car journey and a hideous night where both girls woke and cried and fretted and made me want to shoot myself in the face.
Happily we have now arrived at the B&B for the wedding (I will not even mention the roof box calamity that saw us in B&Q Reading rather than on the M4, it is best forgotten).
And now, the piece de resistance…here’s our bed…