Thursday, 28 April 2011

Dear Fancy

I can't seem to comment on anyone's posts tonight, so here's what I've been trying to tell you and your gang.

Well Lordy.... I'm not quite sure what to say... Thank you! What a welcome.  I'll get into this blogging thing once I've remembered which way is up, in the meantime I do believe this techno-novice has some following to do.
Oh and Fancy, I'm not sure quite how much you've stalked, but I was in a horror movie about a honeymoon gone wrong.... quite popular in parts of Salford I'm told....

School playground

Today has been a bit rubbish in terms of moving-to-the-countryside-will-be-fabulous-ness.

I am well aware that I come across a bit - well- frosty, perhaps.  There are two main reasons for this 1) I look moody when I don't smile and 2) I am usually incredibly nervous about meeting new people and sometimes this comes over as incredibly-laid-backness.

So when I took No 1 to school today, first time through the right doors with all the other parents (we were let in through the school office yesterday, being his first day), I made a point of being smiley and saying hello to people, saing "gosh, that's lovely" at the union flag outfits and princess crowns and so on that the kids were allowed to bring to school.

But nothing.  Not a smile back from a single parental-type.  No 1 was off running round playing tag with his new friends and I was the one in the corner, gripping on to No 2 for some sort of comfort.

Anyway, at home time No 1's teacher asked if she could have a word.  Turns out No 1 had a "rather sad lunchtime".  He's been "hurting" people - playfighting but not stopping when they asked him to - so could I please have a word about "being kind"?

I am really really hoping this exuberance gets channelled effectively.  I know the kids have been under house arrest whilst we attempt to get the house liveable-inable and I can understand that therefore they want to go a bit mental when they get released into the wild, but I really could do with them (No 1 especially) calming down soon, thankyouplis. 

I don't want to be "that boy's mother".

After all, I even wore my Barbour to prove that although I am From London, I am adaptable......
This post has reminded me of my last spa time, taken just as I was winding down from work in an effort to combat my stress levels.  Waste of time, more like.......

I paid for 75 minutes of pampering (admittedly only £25, but still, new company (I think), deal).

I turned up at 12 noon.  I filled in a form.  I was escorted by a 12 year old to the room.  She ran down the list of things I was having done (mini hand and wrist treatments, mini facial etc) but also said "eyebrow wax - oh no...." - I was desperately in need of one and clearly she was too young to have her rudeness filter on, so I said "I know, they are a state, if there's a chance of getting an eyebrow wax done as well that would be great".  She went off to check, emphasised I'd have to pay extra for it - (yes, yes, I gathered as much, that will be fine, just get on with it!!!!) and then asked me to get undressed and under the towels and we'd get started.

The room wouldn't fit the waxing cart into it properly, but she didn't realise until she'd attempted to ram it against the bed that I was on several times - she then tried to move the bed about (again, with me still on it), then finally manoeuvred her equipment sufficiently and did what felt like the most laboured wax in the world.  Fine, whatever, it was at least being done. 

Then she started on the treatments, and to be frank, until she got to the back neck and shoulder massage it was like she was trying to beat the clock.  She kept asking me really stupid questions too, whereas I was looking forward to the chance for some silence and being able to unwind - that is the idea, no?!  Next door some woman was speaking loudly to her client about her eating and nutrition plan, highly irritating.  No plinky plonky whale music here, clearly. 

Anyway, the final massage bit was really good apart from the vocal accompaniments, and when it finished, I got dressed and headed out to pay for my eyebrow wax and so on, hoping I wasn't going to be back too late to work, bit cheeky, wasn't it.... to my immense surprise.... it was 1.10pm.

So yes, I'd actually had 75 minutes worth of treatment plus a very laboured eyebrow wax, plus ALL THAT FAFFING AROUND in just 70 minutes. 

When I mentioned this, I was just told that I hadn't booked the eyebrow wax so they had to fit it in because they had another client at 1.15pm.  I said perhaps I should have been told about this at the time and would the manager like to phone me? 

That was 4 weeks ago.  No word from the manager, and they have not charged me for the eyebrow wax.  And I'll never use them again, and will tell anyone who asks where they should not go so all's fair I reckon.


Well, I think we can safely say that my mind has been elsewhere since we moved on 11th April.  I will get in to the habit of blogging, honest.  Just let me find my desk under the boxes and work out how I'm going to survive doing all the housekeeping and housework with a nearly 3 year old in tow......

Clue - I'm not......