I write this whilst you feed, daddy has a shower, I have a hangover, Arwa co-ordinates the sausages and freshly baked rolls and my sister and her boyf chill on the couch.
Yes, this is the week my sister came to town from the States. It’s been a fab few days. You have been looked after by your aunty and uncle very well. Aunty Anya doesn’t really do kids either, but she seemed to warm up to you rather fast. She changed her first dirty ‘diaper’, she dressed you, helped you have a bath and rocked you to sleep. I think she quite likes you. She arrived with a boat load of clothes for you, at least one outfit per size (6 months all the way up to 24 months! It’s crazy to think you’ll ever be that big). There was a lot of ‘aunty is amazing’ stuff, one leopard print (hussy) outfit and who can forget the cute little froggy shoes… that she’s just fitting into. So we’re making sure you get maximum usage out of them before aunty leaves. We gave them a whistle stop tour of London. Up past PenD, over Tower Bridge, along the river past the London Eye, around Westminster, up White Hall and Downing Street and back home via Black Friers, London Bridge & Borough. All in all I think you cried for most of the journey but not all of it and not on your loudest setting. You were also left with uncle James for about 30 mins who very capably kept you alive whilst daddy dropped his wife off (yes, me) looking like a ho bag for her first night out since you were born.
And boy did mummy get everything she wanted of an evening. 1stly like a right ho bag she completely forgot her wedding rings. 100% accidental. Honest. Mummy hasn’t had them on for over a week as she’s mainly been at home doing lots of housework and so has taken them off so as not to damage them. Daddy was not convinced. Then we got a man at the bar to take our photo. Little did we know he had an owner. Oh yes and we were informed about it. The 4ft 6 12 year old looking female who was more tanned than cow hide in short white shorts and an amazing ‘fan’ bun of hair on her head told us, ‘he’s my boyfriend… f*** off!’. Even her boyfriend smarted at this comment. They both looked like they were from the Only Way Is Essex. Come to think of it, almost everyone in ‘Mordens’ in BlackHeath looked like they were part of the cast. We were charged a silly £7 to go downstairs to the club. But we had to go, even if it was for the final 30mins before we went home… I hadn’t gone out for 11 months!!! One needed to boogy. How I managed it in those heels I have no idea. Arwa then suggested I should ask the DJ in traditional fashion, for a Britney Spears song. A tradition I have kept up since our Uni days 13 years ago (yes, 13 years ago… sigh). So as a piss take I went and asked the DJ, I say a piss take because he was playing cool house music so I was never expecting a yes. His response? ‘Aren’t you too old for Britney?’… YOU WHAT!!!???? Are you for serial? My mouth dropped in mock shock. But actually I was quite shocked. He tried to retract the words, but I was having none of it, dragging it out for as long as possible. After demanding ‘Blurred lines’ (thank you Emily) and ‘Get Lucky’ (thank you me) we got a black cab home. And here we are, we come full circle. In fairness my hang over was not that bad. What’s even better is you slept 11 hours last night and actually didn’t eat for 14.5 hours over night… I’m hoping we’re edging toward 12 hour sleeps. Tee hee.
Greenwich for us today. Eventually.