I’ve just had the most wonderful of weekends. Theatre and dinner which, having spent the last couple of months involved in the organising, I enjoyed immensely. The show was just wonderful – one of the ones where you just know all the words and sing along without feeling silly! Followed by a really splendid supper in fabulous company.
In honour of the occasion I had bought a new outfit. Not just any outfit. One that when you come out of the changing room everyone gasps type outfit! I don’t normally do such clothing. It consisted of three parts – a slinky floor length skirt with a fish tail and a thigh split that hugs my derrière. A bustier that cinched me in and lifted me in all the right places. And a soft lacy jacket trimmed with wispy feathers to top it all off! As I said, really really NOT the sort of thing I would normally wear but it was a friend who picked it out and when I came out if the changing room there were oohs and aaahs! I was back in the changing room a while when someone asked if I needed any help getting “out of it”. I replied I was just enjoying myself “in it”, twirling in front of the mirror, amazed I could look so glamorous! On the evening I wore it, everyone kept telling my eldest son how amazing his mum’s posterior looked and how he should look – he flatly refused!
The following morning was spent sorting out all the stuff to go back to London after his brief stay with me. To be fair he was very good and we had a sort out along the way and two bin bags were earmarked for charity. This made loading up the car much easier especially as he disappeared back up to London to party leaving me to pack up on my own! The Saturday evening I went to a picnic and proms event – great music, bunting, flags, picnic, champagne and I sung my little socks off.
The following day (Sunday) I had a repeat performance of the flat moving that was the subject of my last post. I drove into London again (on my own), this time with written instructions and son (already up in town) calling me every 20 minutes to make sure I wasn’t in complete meltdown like before! On arrival, my son was still having brunch with pals somewhere and his flatmate had gone home to his parents for Sunday lunch. Great! I had a door key but I couldn’t get it to work. However, by the time I got through to the letting agent (I had been given so many emergency numbers) I had managed to get in.
My son has lived in London for 18 months now and this is now his 4th flat. Compared to the others it is probably not as des res. The first flat was in Kensington and was gorgeous with a balcony overlooking immaculate gardens. The 2nd was in the heart of Covent Garden and absolutely tiny with scarcely room to swing a mouse let alone a proverbial cat. But hey. Location location location etc etc. The 3rd I loved as it was just by Waterloo bridge with the most amazing views. This time he is to share with an old school friend that his father and I thoroughly approve of – they are good together and balance each other. However as soon as he arrives at the flat he has a tantrum! He hates the flat, his job, life sucks blah blah blah. Having arrived on my own, unwrapped the new mattress, made up the bed, hung up 27 carefully ironed (by me) shirts and put away the rest of his clobber I was less than impressed. I told him to make me a cup of tea and meet me in the sitting room.
He does as he’s told because he can tell from the look on my face I am in no mood to be messed with. As he sits down I tell him to stop being a spoilt brat and that life isn’t always perfect (I should know!) My first flat was a dark dingy basement studio with a total nutter across the hall that I had to share a bathroom with! But it was Brighton and I loved being there. When I first joined the world’s favourite airline I was 22 and in the accounts department where everyone else was 40-50. It was so quiet and dull I used to go home and cry. However I progressed and was there (not in accounts obviously!) for nearly 19 years. I did promotions and training new recruits and worked with VIPs. I loved my job but by golly I so didn’t when I started. And I gave him all this with both barrels and told him to man up.
We drove back home and he bought me Sunday lunch. I managed to grab a couple of hours to pack myself a bag and then we went off to France – me and my gorgeous boys to relax, unwind and do some family bonding. I will tell you more about that later…