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Much Wenlock and more

December 7, 2011

Wow, what a tumultuous few days we’ve just had!  Am bloody knackered…and have still to go to Sainsbury’s tonight, else there’s no brekkie (oh yeah, we like to roll round here on the edge, skirting mealtime meltdown).  However, i digress, where to begin?  Well, first off there was my haircut.  Brilliant.  So ridiculously cheap that i louchely gave a £15 tip and bought myself a satchel that i’ve been coveting for a few months.  And she was excellent, shall definitely be going back, and perhaps getting some colour next time…so feeling glamorous for when my sister arrived (v delayed as she’d been driving illegally up the motorway at 40mph – to save petrol) we sat and enjoyed the rest of the evening with some nice red wine.  On saturday we went to the Much Wenlock xmas fayre.  I still felt glamorous (god it’s amazing what a haircut can do for you), and the fayre was nice.  Lots of little stalls, a beautiful arctic falcon was on display which Aaron held, he also went ice skating on what must have been competing for the World’s smallest and least icy rink.  Though there was lots of lovely stuff on offer, we didn’t actually buy much.  The queue for the butchers was literally out onto the street and round the corner, but we did find a cider stall (funny that eh?).  My hero got a whole load of tips off of the Ludlow based cider distillers, though the debate between juicer and press rages on.  Turns out we need a bit bucket with a large stick to pulp the apples if we go down the press route.  He needs to make a decision soon, as am not too sure how long the apples will last.  But at least there’s a potential that we mightn’t need crabapples as apparently bramleys (which we have in spades) will do a similar job.  I did think they might…but to be honest, this is all still highly hypothetical.  Until the apples are in demijohns who knows what we’ll end up making.

And so to the party.  Did i mention that it was a retirement do?  No?  Hmmm, don’t think i really realised fully what that might mean.  What it meant was that we were the youngest couple there.  Not that that obviously prevented us having a rare good time, but i did have to stop myself a few times from screaming vitriol at the retirees.  I didn’t realise that i was so angry about the fact that i’ve got no pension, and that everyone older has had it so easy (able to afford homes, even second homes…etc etc), i think the strike has stirred it up in me.  Anyway, the food was lovely, and the booze was overflowing (it was all BYO).  However, it was actually in the college, which was a wee bit strange.  And there were skits.  These were very much enlivened by the second youngest person there, who was representing dem yoot dem by having drunk a bottle of brandy on the train.  She decided to do some interpretive dance to the main man’s speech.  Excellent.  The barn dancing though, was a disappointment.  Mainly because it was run by teachers (with some officious friends helping).  And they couldn’t have explained their way out of a paper bag, let alone the Gay Gordon.  So the majority of the time allocated to traditional dancing was mainly spent being shouted at, or told to be quiet, or both.  And generally by the time the dancing started, and you’d got the hang of it, and it was coming round to your ‘turn’ at the front.  They stopped.  Moved onto the next dance (or 15 mins of instructions followed by 2 mins of music).  To be fair, them oldies probably couldn’t have coped with much more dancing, as it was pretty vigorous.  But still.  Bit disappointing.  Afterwards, i should’ve gone home.  Or at least stopped drinking.  Sadly i did neither.  Instead i got all comedy awful middle-class and started berating Adam for brining a nice bottle of chablis along (i mean really, it was only luck that i managed to find it amongst all the bottles, anyone could’ve drunk it and left me with some Blossom Hill….), which i then proceeded to keep very close by me.  Not even relinquishing it when we got into the taxi, and insisting on splashing it all over my face for the journey back, whilst i think swearing quite profusely.  Still glamorous then.  I did loose the glamour an hour or so later, having finished off the wine, whilst still at a colleague’s of Adam’s house, when i started doing impressions of the hat.  Namely her pterodactyl noise (with flapping arms), plus the AK-47 on helium noise.  After about 10 mins of that i think i decided that it might be time to go home.  Shame.  Had all been going pretty well til that point.  But that’s what happens when you let a new mum out for the first time…well ok, not quite the first time but close enough.

Am still recovering really.  Rhids came round on Sunday and left today, which was lovely, and would’ve been nicer if i’d been less tired and he less ill.  However, have been helped tremendously by the fact that the hat’s now sleeping through.  From 7 to 7.  I know as i type this it will be the jinx, but so far 5 nights on the trot.  Result.  After xmas we’ll have her in no1’s room, and finally, finally, we’ll be able to enjoy our magnificent bed and room, to ourselves!

Right, off to do chores now, we’ve a ‘landlords inspection’ tomorrow, which am slightly shitting myself about.  The house is fine, but have never had one of these before and am nervous that she’ll be in all our cupboards and tut tutting at my drawers.  Don’t really want to have to move…

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