Sorry, sorry, sorry....

Just realised it's Tuesday and I haven't blogged since Friday!! Sorry! Whatever have I been doing??? Worked Friday, then bereavement counselling in the afternoon, followed by tea and cake out with a friend...far better than going back to work, my counsellor insists on it....

Then into town on Saturday morning, breakfast out with same friend..quite lovely, only downside being I paid both times because of a slight wallet problem.....discovered the French Market in town again. Hurrah! The sun was shining, it was a lovely Saturday morning, the ambience was tres beau, and I practised my best French when buying vegetables, fresh baked baguettes and croissants, honey covered roast peanuts which I am eating as I type....and then..there was the handbag stall. Oh, it has the most wonderful handbags...I already have two from previous visits, and I bought my lovely black leather work brief case there last time the market came to town - Italian leather and soooooooo reasonable....

While small person with wallet problems was away finding a cash machine I happened upon a loveyl shiny black leather handbag, just right for the winter. When the nice lady saw my current brown handbag, and realised it was one of hers, she was so pleased she offered me discount. Lovely assistant arrived with wallet just in time, and as the lady obviously expected him to pay for the hand bag, he did, so as not to look mean. How generous.......

Wallet person quite spoiled the shopping trip by then buying large quantities of various garlicky salamis, olives and three kinds of smelly cheese. All of which I loathe with a passion. (Oh no, he plans to take some away a the weekend.....)

Saturday night, James, Laura and I jump into Clive's white van - well the company van anyway - and head to Bristol for a very last sleepover at The House. We have a jolly journey, but arrive in Bristol late on what feels like, and is, the coldest night of the year so far. I offer to go in and put lights and heating on, to make it more welcoming, then we head for the nearest little Indian restaarant for a litle something. Very nice it is too.

Back at the house we sit in the lounge with the heating on full, and the gas fire on, and put the TV on in an effort to be cosy and jolly. We watch TV and all fall asleep as the room is so warm....

At 12.30am I open my eyes and suggest we all ought to go up to bed. James and Laura opt to sleep in the twin beds in the front room they always slept in as children, and I go in my mum's bed. Unfortunately, the kitchen celing has leaked with the recent rain, so there is a huge lake on the kitchen floor, and the house feels damp - and I forgot to check that the radiators were on upstairs. they were not, and the bedrooms were like bloody freezers, and the beds felt cold and damp. James sat huddled against a radiator (once I put it on!) on the end of Laura's bed, and she put a fleece and socks on to get into bed. She is shivering so much she gets the giggles, and while I am in the bathroom, I hear James call out from his bed, 'Mum, it's not fair, her bed's next to the radiator and she's got her feet on it, and I'm freezing and I need my socks......' I kindly go into the bedroom to find James his socks, and he sticks his size 11 feet out for me to put them on. There is a limit to my maternal devotion, I say, handing him the socks. The sounds of James perishing from hyperthermia just makes Laura giggle more, and I can hear her teeth chattering...it's the last night in my parent's house, and we are all laughing. How I love my children.