Still here...

Cooee! Checking in for my annual blog post. Hehehe.

Nothing says Bank Holiday weekend quite like a stint on the A55, does it?

So, this is where I will be tomorrow, no fish and chips (and gravy - because I can) at Everland (sob) and definitely no Wrexham lager (boo). My Slimming World consultant asked me what excuse I had planned for not drinking. I'm toying with antibiotics, rather than pregnancy? Because I have this terrible habit of tempting fate, and knowing my luck, just as my 'baby' hits his teens, I'll end up starting all over again with another little surprise. The Perimenopausal Mum. Although... that sounds like a cool blog name, no?

Hopefully we'll get the win, after a bit of a shaky start this season. It's promising glorious weather, so we'll arrive early and help to set up. Well, Mr G will help, I will stand around hindering and looking wistfully at the bar whilst clutching a can of Pepsi Max.

The in laws are coming tomorrow evening. I haven't prepared for them, other than buying a kilo of bacon and a pound of mince. Standards are slipping. I'll run a kitchen wipe around the toilet before they arrive.

Just because I haven't been posting, doesn't mean that Mr G hasn't been coming out with howlers.

Mr G: Can I have a bumble...?
Walks away
Me: Huh?
I follow him into the kitchen
Me: What did you just say? Did you say... bumble?
Mr G: Yes
Me: What did you mean?
Mr G: I can't even say it.
Me: What did you mean?
Mr G: I walked in and I saw them. Doughnuts. And I thought 'Mmmm. Bumbles'.
(And yes, when he said 'Mmmm. Bumbles' - he sounded like Homer Simpson. Bless).

Mr G: I think I'm going to have some sex with my chicken.
Me: What? The f**k?
Mr G: I meant lettuce. Lettuce.

Mr G: Do you know, there's four different brands of bird in that tree?
Me: Brands?
Mr G: Yeah. Chaffinch, blue tit, robin and blackbird.
Me: Brands?

He's hard work but I bloody love him to bits. Just as well, really.