Today, I felt like I was auditioning for a part in Father Ted/St Trinians (the Russel Brand version, not the black-and-white nostalgic one).
If your charges are going to misbehave, why do they have to choose to do it in the front of the church? I felt enveloped in waves of reprobation.
Jensen was unperturbed, and has been an orphan-in-training all day. Meanwhile Ian has been digging in the garden and keeping out of our way. The whole street has been eerily silent (like a scene from the Survivors). Jensen has been out on his bike (abandoned in the road as he decided to do cart-wheels over the side-walk instead).
I hit the Rioja early and my diet has relapsed. Somehow I managed to convince myself that if I ate the cake the children declared very publicly as “horrible” it didn’t count. Likewise, if I dissolved some squares of my Fair Trade Oxfam chocolate in my Rosemary Conley Solo Slimmer drink.
Tomorow is another day (and meanwhile the duvet, water bottle and my Gordon Brown audio book await…..a generally sad end to a squiby day).