Not waving but not quite drowning

The weekend: A Headline Summary.

1st wedding anniversary.
I know… where the hell has a year gone? Stolen by Nazi fascist aliens, I shouldn’t wonder.

Baby K vomits.
A lot. Not on me, mercifully.

Had Swanky Meal Out
Yum yum yum. We darkened the doors of Mal Maison who were kind enough not to throw us out. Mr K orders an absurd starter of Ham which was a) rare breed, b) free range, c)fed only on fallen acorns and d) cured for 2 years. How good can ham be, for Christ’s sake?

Found G-Spot (allegedly)
Mr K had been researching the matter on t’internet and was keen to authenticate his findings. Not without success. I believe further clinical trials will be necessary as have previously dismissed as fiction

One of the odd things about my mum’s cancer is that most of the time I’m able to not think about it. I see her at least once a week and chat on the phone more than that but we’re both a bit sick of her illness being the sole topic of conversation so it’s been off of the agenda for a while.

Seeing her now is a bit like having a massive drinking binge. She looks fine, and sounds fine and appears to be normal so when I’m with her I just drink her in. We laugh and look after the children and bitch about the neighbours. My mum tells stories about when she was young, or when her and my Dad were first married and we all laugh until we have to wipe our eyes.

But, like the binge drinking I’ve just likened her to; such time with her comes at a price the next day. Today I’ll be moody and reflective and devastated all day, if previous such times are any indicator.

It’s worth it, of course.

Oh dear… I need to leave my desk and have a little moment in the toilets again.