Can it only be a week since I was sitting looking out across un vallee francais and slowly sleeping off my years of sleep deprivation? Yes, I think it can.
My house still appears to be the epicentre of masculinity although 5 days on I'm slightly more used to it and feel comfortable in the presence of our lovely builders.
We went to the pub last night and had all manner of meals - with chips. Everyone had chips. J had a plate the size of a dartboard and still had sticky toffee pudding for afterwards. If he ever stops playing sport he'll be the size of a sofa.
I've escaped for a few minutes as the beloved appears to be getting stressed on the phone and as him getting stressed makes me more stressed I decided to decamp to my neighbour's house for a wee bit of blogging and some piece and quiet. I suspect he's wondering where I am.
We've decided to get some decorating done next week which is impacting on my usual summer holiday lie-ins. I've worked out that I'm likely to be able to squeeze in four. This may be reduced to three if I can't get school shoes by the end of next week.
I took the small people to Clark's yesterday. I used to love Clark's but I'm not sure what has happened. They make trainers that don't look like trainers and school shoes that look very impractical. It's a mystery. Anyway, J's feet were measured, two pairs of shoes were proffered that weren't actually his size, an insole was offered but only one that I would have to cut down to fit. Now, am I being picky to expect that a shop offering shoe fitting would actually send you out of the shop with shoes that fit or, make them fit? It was also suggested that I could phone head office and order the right sized shoes but would have to pay p&p. I could then make another trip to the shop to make sure they fitted and if they didn't I could return them but not get my p&p refunded. It was like being in a podiatrically parallel universe.
Right, I can't hide any longer. I must return. However, I am armed with some good news - for me anyway.