Life As It Is - This week in Jan 2017 - Sickness & swimming pools

Life As It Is is - well now, that's a thought. How is it? Frankly better that it was. I'm getting over ocular shingles. That's shingles in the eye for anyone that wondered. Triggered by a chest infection and a very high temp prior to that. All of January, Queenie's Cough has played havoc with my lungs, and to think this was supposed to be my year for good health...

Dry January is officially over and thanks to the aforementioned state of me, I did quite well. Only one real night of boozing, and that was civilised. I could conclude that I'm no better for cutting out alcohol, although an underlying and potentially reocurring peptic ulcer would no doubt disagree. Jesus I'm ageing. You know in Spring I'm going to emerge a thoroughbred? My cunning plan is to drink an Apple Cider Vinegar antidote heh heh. It is what I'm currently sucking up (through a straw though, for as well as viruses, it eats enamel).




But enough about me - how are my gorgeous GraceFaith girls? Now let's see. Esme Grace at 8.5 has so far missed all week at school due to a persistently high temperature. This is a bit of a bummer as her year group is on a residential trip and she's missed that too. She was gutted not to be there until an email popped up yesterday saying a few of the children had vomited through the night and been sent home ill. Eek. Immediately that scene in Bridesmaids springs to mind, but in a dormitory. This is obviously way over dramatising it, but think vomit landing on the heads of the kids in the bunks below... (forgive me, I write for a living). Part of me is so glad my Esme is curled up on the sofa beside me. And anyway, she has Brownie camp to look forward to. Dib dib dob dob.

At 5.5 Sofia Faith is cool. She is breezing through life brilliantly, albeit with the occasional - and of course not unexpected - hiccup. The latest of which is that her school trio have been squabbling. But you know, so the proverb goes: Two is company. Three can be an unwelcome disaster.  She seems happier now that she has talked to me about it; communication being key to this parenting malarkey. She consoles herself by playing cats most of the time - bursts of language peppered with miaows. Like I said, communication is key. It's the perfectly executed American accent that makes me smile.

As for him - the somewhat fed up of sick wife - husband - he's just sold his car. He came home on the bus last night with £10,000 in his backpack. Tarick and three of his mates (not an intimidating picture or anything) drove down from Manchester to look at, test drive and hopefully love his A5 enough to drive it back again. Not surprisingly this morning it's already settled in, somewhere near to Coronation street. You know cars really aren't my thang but I was particularly fond of this one, it was a fabulous aubergine hue. But carrying cash home on the bus, how like, totally movies? Mid Life crisis switches into the fast lane for him with a younger silver model - no personality to speak of as such, although we're now driving round with heated bums. No doubt one eventually gets used to this mod con, but for the time being I'll keep momentarily wondering if I've pissed myself?

Pissing rain. It has not stopped. The frogmen landscape guys outside are doing their best to create a new garden for us but the reality is we are looking at a mud bath. As requested by our six-year-old neighbour, perhaps we should be making the hole that is intended for a drive into a swimming pool instead? It is only a matter of time before one of us slips down the bank and lands upon our arse. Never mind, I suppose we could always sit in the new A5 to dry out. Roll on Spring.