Mother's Day, Schmother's Day

Mothering Sunday brought bearers of gifts. My daughter gave hyacinths and chocolate popcorn, my mother a china cup and saucer with 'Mother's Day' on it, my chap brought rack of lamb.

It seemed like an ordeal to get through. My Aunt is deaf as a post, and my mother more anal than an anal thing. My chap was carrying an injury and winced a lot, but bravely steamed the asparagus... there's only so much empathy to go round. I'm knackered. My girl child is totally obliging and cooperative, a problem in itself, because I exist on pins waiting for her to turn into a hard core emo 666 pain in the arse.

Speaking of which my boy child managed to surpass himself with a three word text 'happy mother's day' all the way from the land down under. Champion.

Hey ho. There are 10 weeks to go before The Brief's wedding. She is looking svelte and honed. I felt amoebic next to her. In desperation I have left my number on the Curves answer machine. Thirty minutes, three times per week, exercise and healthy eating plan for ladies only. They are going to have their work cut out if I am to lose 4.2lbs per week. I WILL get into that mauve (menopausal mauve?) Maxmara silk hanky dress....

Off to bed now with Roland Barthes. I give it 30 seconds before I'm unconscious. Have to get a good night's sleep in, am squeezing in an hour's tennis with the gals from the Tennis Club at 9am. May need to find my wellies as deep snow is forecast and I can hear the weather raging outside. That will do my rosacea no good at all.

Ha,

I'm back, and I've so much to tell, don't go away. I'm going to put you on hold until later. I didn't think it could get any worse. But it could and it did.

I have now been at University for 18 months. Well, nearly two years to be precise. Second year seems to finish in May. Second year, I can hardly believe it. Surreal. It's dire. So many automatons, so many zombies going through the motions because they have nothing better to do.

I am adrift in a sea of inertia.

45 started on the course. 17 are left. Of those, possibly 3 or 4 know why they are there. I think that includes me. But I'm not really sure anymore.

It's Saturday and my chap is waiting to take me out. He survived Leap Year Proposal day unscathed and is feeling over confident. I like him, he amuses me. Thank God something does.

Ciao for now.