Saturday, 1 May 2010

Aspirational lifestyle post

So, the Bank Holiday weekend got off to a magnificent start when I got a bit uneasy about my wallet last night. I was running late, so I just assumed I had put it somewhere idiotic, like the fridge or the laundry basket, and rushed off (to New Young Pony Club,who were very good, actually. There's a girl that can work leather shorts. Respect) cavalierly with my last €50 note.

BUT NO. I have lost my wallet AGAIN, which adds an exciting refinement to the Belgian Bank Holiday weekend of doom - Bank Holiday Weekend of Doom with €5! Amuse your venal children by making them pay for their own Happy Meals! Self-flagellate at your own stupidity! Amaze your friends with convoluted phone calls to the world's most depressing call centres while Mario and Luigi sing their sweet songs in your other eardrum!

So that was nice. I have borrowed €50 from the CFO and I feel ashamed and pathetic and a total dick. Excellent. This set of sensations is meshing nicely with my headachy, whiny hangover. There was a particularly brilliant moment this morning in the park cafe where we had taken the weepette to meet his adoptive mother (also then required to pay for drinks and lend me a tram ticket, sorry Beatrice), when simultaneously:

- Lashes flicked a straw of juice at his brother causing me to bellow so loud at him that the whole park went eerily silent and stared at us;

- Fingers knocked his menthe à l'eau over everywhere and then tripped over the chair, going flying across the gravel;

- the weepette, maddened by all the excitement, pissed all over a temporary sculpture and terrified a toddler, then got confused and ran INTO the (relatively smart, serving a brunch buffet) cafe, causing havoc.

During this, both children were hysterically cackling and I was thinking about wrapping them in duct tape until Monday morning. It is some indication of the state of things that this afternoon, I spent several hours hoovering obsessively, despite my fear and loathing of the hoover. This was because whilst hoovering, I could not hear the shrieks of outrage, highly repetitive arguments, the clash of sturdy child skulls or the gentle skittering of a full jar of Hundreds and Thousands all over the kitchen floor that punctuated the day.

I have no faith that we have hit rock bottom. I have another cake to make and two to ice by Monday morning to fête the arrival of my first born 8 years ago. I have managed to make one misshapen dinosaur already. Things were going fine, until Lashes wandered past where it was sitting on the cooling rack and and thrust his hand into it, grabbing a fistful of cake and stuffing it into his mouth, spreading crumbs everywhere for me to hoover, dementedly. Now the cake looks like a dinosaur that has suffered a vicious velociraptor attack to its internal organs, which will make an interesting decorative challenge. Without most of the necessary ingredients (food colouring on a Sunday? In Belgium? Going to be interesting).

On top of this, I have promised a trip to the Dinosaur Museum which will involve 3 modes of Sunday public transport and at least €25 of my borrowed €50. Who knows what else I may have promised in a moment of weakness, I will doubtless be reminded at 6am by long fingers poking my eyelids open. The house still smells horribly and aribtrarily of drains about 40% of the time. Like now! Bonsoir, drain smell. Drains and Diptyque, it's delightful. I am now imagining a candle with that special Diptyque wonky letters label but the label reads "DRAINS". or "EGOUTS" because that's French, and thus more desirable. It must be time for bed.


Dave Yello said...

As a dinosaur, I applaud the destructive efforts of your first born, and suggest you use some squiggly worm sweets to emulate entrails spewing out of his abdomen.

Iheartfashion said...

I take comfort in the fact that your life sounds nearly as chaotic and unmanageable as mine. Sorry.

Mrs Trefusis... said...

I read the menthe a l'eau tweet as creme de menthe, & wa so disturbed by idea of you being in close proximity to creme de menthe at 10am, I was rendered speechless. But I find myself so relieved to discover it was a perfectly inoccuous substance, everything else pales into insignificance.

Margarita said...

Is there a bottle of wine or any alcohol somewhere? I say spend the rest of the money on a sitter and just get tanked... NO, I don't actually mean that....

Betty M said...

At least it is not pouring with rain as well ....actually scratch that it probably is given your current run of luck. Sorry about that.

Metropolitan Mum said...

Why not leave the dinosaur as it is? This could be an important lesson about diversity and inclusion.

And duct tape... I most make a note somewhere for future reference.

Beatrice said...

I can't stop thinking about mother and reasons why she sent me and my brother to our grandma SO often... every week-end or even for couple of weeks... Horrid. I was horrid. I actually remember biting myself and telling mom it was my brother; fighting with my brother for life and death and calling my mother to office to tell I'm about to be killed (aged 8 and 9, we were ofthen left home alone); having endless quarrels with my brother over clothing (we were born so close that we actually worn the same size) and then publicly tease him over the fact that he was wearing girls underwear...etc.
We haven't talked since years. Tadaa!

Jessica said...

I lost my bank card today. It is not my whole wallet, but know that on this most boring of weekends, I feel more than empathy for you.

justarabbit said...

About your drain smell... Have you checked that all your traps have water in them? Well, don't actually look, that would be gross, just put a litre or two of water in them.
We had that problem at work with a drain in the floor. Its trap had dried out and it took us months to figure out where that awful sewer smell was coming from.

Margaret said...

I second justrabbit: I just saw a Holmes on Homes about this! You're in an old house, so your trap is likely not to modern plumbing code. If running all the taps regularly doesn't work, you may have to tell your landlord to call a plumber to install proper traps or perform some kind of vent retrofit surgery if you want the smell to go away permanently. Nothing you pour down the drains is going to really fix the venting problem. Anytime the water in the trap dries out the smell will return.

Johnners said...

European politics (with vegetables), superb parenting skills AND plumbing advice! What more can any blog offer?!?

I had to leave my shopping in Sainsbury's the other day and take the walk of shame away from the check-out - gaping bag, no purse to be seen etc etc. (I knew it was at home, but obviously had to pretend it might have been stolen to save some face). You are not alone! x

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