Premonitions, Scratch-Cards, Shelters

Yesterday we enjoyed the wettest, coldest, smallest and most modest 'street' party imaginable. Huddled under a skilfully erected tarpaulin shelter, we learned a lot...
...rain doesn't matter when you're aged between 7 months and 10 years old.
Crisps are all you need to fuel children.

Who really cares what anyone thinks about the royal family?  They're here, they're normal people masquerading as some kind of other-worldly beings, and I don't envy them at all. Maybe I envy Middleton's waistline, but that's it. Waving, having a Maureen from Psychoville hairdo, listening to obsequious and nervous idiots telling you stuff you couldn't care less about - a tough job.

The best thing I read about the whole Jubilee shenanigans was this post.

Maureen, Psychoville

At the corner shop this afternoon, I was overwhelmed by a sudden and irresistible urge to purchase a lottery scratch-card. Gambling isn't an addiction I can imagine fully immersing myself in. Maybe alcoholism,.definitely food, possibly class B drugs. Throwing money around chasing unattainable larger sums of money, only to throw that away if a miracle occurs - no thanks.

I remember my mother's friend saying her agoraphobic sister had a mild  prescription painkiller dependency - "she pops a couple of Co-Proxamol and then she's on QVC buying all sorts of crap".  That sounds great fun. Maybe I'll try that when I'm elderly.

I was in the shop quite a while, rather like a 1950's housewife, I while away plenty of time there, eager to catch a bit of juicy gossip, or witness some blog-worthy display of uncouth human behaviour.

The green veg at the shop had turned grey - I offered to make some soup for Saj to sell at a pound per cup. My entrepreneurial skills know no bounds.

Saj declined my offer, and I won NOTHING on the scratch-card.The customers were mainly purchasing cigarettes and alcohol (recession? What recession!).
Back to the drawing board for me.

Earlier this evening, I picked Liam up from his dad's house.
Liam was supposed to be camping this week with his friend, dad, and dad's partner. As Liam's dad was playing golf, I chatted to his partner about the abandoned camping trip. Much bickering had ensued following an attempt to erect the tent in gale-force winds and torrential rain on a sodden field. Liam's dad was determined to get the tent up, determined to laugh in the face of wind, rain, mud, grumpy pre-teens and a simpering, damp, smelly coquettish dog.

"Men!" I exclaimed in a cliché and over-the-top tone. "Why do they feel the need have to  prove themselves by  providing an inferior shelter, when they have a perfectly sturdy,cosy and functional home?".

I was, of course, referring to the tarpaulin shelters which took Rob, Ken and Stuart (plus various other gentlemen in the street who rubbed their chins, squinted and laughed before retiring to the safety of their brick-built castles) two hours to tether in place

I must admit though, despite much tutting, eye-rolling and negativity from us ladies, it was great being outdoors; watching the children play happily and mingling with people I was barely on nodding terms with before.

I also got to meet Sue, the lady I said this about in a previous post:

"A new addition to my 'I've seen you before' file, intrigues me. I reckon I'll get to know her one day, she seems worth getting to know. I like her clothes and the way she looks up, not just around. I'd say she's in her mid forties, lives alone, and suffers from depression - her eyes look quite sad, like they're desperate to be rinsed out with cold water and shown a bright picture."


Turns out, she has recently moved into the next street, and is very pleasant indeed.


 Sue is joining a few friends and I for drinks tomorrow night. My premonition was right. Fancy that!