Craving Normalcy

Christmas is well and truly over : tree out, fairy lights hopelessly tangled up and put away ready for next year's annual Swearfest, tinsel more or less hoovered off the carpet, elderly relatives woken up and posted back home.


But we are still not back to normalcy at Blighty HQ. ( Love the word "normalcy", so much more important sounding and transatlantic than "normal" and "normality". It's even got into the Oxford English Dictionary, albeit in brackets with "N. Amer" next to it, I suspect the original draft written by some fusty old codger read "N.Amer oh how ghastly, first hamburgers and now this, whatever next ..." until the editor very wisely took that bit out....)



We have yet to achieve Normalcy chez Blights as Boys 1 and 2 are STILL not back at school. Unbelievable. Their Christmas hols seemed to have lasted about 2 years. It seems a long time since Boxing Day when we did this.



Since playing on the Wii nonstop for 3 weeks, the boys now have to be dragged everywhere



Now all the snow has gone, and so has Mr Blighty - back to his office, including weekends. He is still busy trying to Get Something Out because someone important Needs to See It. Apparently. In my darker moments I wonder if he is just avoiding leftover turkey recipe 51 (rissoles a la Dettol). In exciting news Mr B's boss has been made a "Sir" in the New Years Honours. How I long for Mr B to be knighted, then I could be Lady Blighty which would look really good on my Tesco loyalty card..sadly no chance of that, I am afraid, but a deluded middle aged woman can always dream...



Well, the hols have been very nice, quality time and all that, but please could Boys 1 and 2 go back to school. Now. I need to get on with important motherly activities like reading detective novels, drinking tea and ordering nail polish over the internet - sorry, I mean, making nutritious food for the freezer, ironing and er, stuff like that.


The boys need to go back to school and become reacquainted with Real Life and their lower limbs - they have been doing far to much of this.







Grandma has been doing sterling work entertaining them: reenacting William Tell was perhaps not the best idea but the poker has gone down a treat; every night I just have to make the boys give Grandma back the title deeds to her house and her car keys, and all is well.

But the end is in sight - school beckons this Wed. In preparation I have begun the Shoe Ritual. Boy 2 is putting up a spirited fight against getting hand me down football boots - the latest argument, most forcefully put by Mr Shouty himself, is that he is shrinking, so all these boots are too big and he needs swish new boots from the fancy pants sports shop. Good Effort Boy 2, have you considered a career in politics (but you may wish to turn the volume down first)?

More bl**dy shoes, where do they all come from, do I have 6 children rather than 2?

And now a mystery: where is Louise from Townsville? Yoohoo Louise - are you out there? Louise is due to be in London any day now and I am hoping to meet her. Louise - email me if you read this!!

Finally, I continue to be interested in baby things due to you know who's exciting news (no, I am not talking about Mrs Beckham). Look at this Baby Dior clobber, isn't it all divine? I wonder if they do that pink furry coat in my size? Because there's no chance that I'm shrinking! Not after Christmas!

Just had a thought: if Boy 2 persists with this shrinking malarkey, I shall threaten to buy him this pink coat. That'll put a stop to it.