30 September 2009 – alcohol is not my friend

Wine, oh dear!

Wine, oh dear!

All this celebrating is becoming a bit of a habit and, if I’m not careful the scales will be going up again. Still, I have been dashing around getting as much done as possible, knowing I will be working five full days a week for the next six weeks while I’m training at The Mad House. There has been cooking to fill the freezer, lots of food shopping to get the food to cook and a massive house spring clean because I can’t see where I’m going to fit in proper housework. The training sounds like it’s going to be pretty full on and I figure I’m going to be dead on my feet by the end of each day, too tired to be cooking or cleaning for sure.

The celebrating last night was down to Frankie, my neighbour. She turned up on the doorstep at about seven o’clock with a big grin and a bottle of wine. It wouldn’t be Frankie if she didn’t have a bottle of wine in her hand and, as she has a week off, there were no worries over drinking on a school night. Normally I don’t drink but I know it’s pointless to argue with her, she is famous for leading me astray.

Some years ago, when Ashleigh was a baby, Commando and I were babysitting for the afternoon. Frankie knocked on the door and invited us to an impromptu barbecue at her house a few doors up the Crescent so we packed up all the baby equipment and trotted up there. Ashleigh was really quite young at the time and my nappy changing skills were honed on boys so when, after several glasses of wine, a nappy needed to be changed, I made rather a dog’s dinner of it. There were actually a crowd of rather drunken neighbours watching and laughing as I remember. I’m not sure Philo was impressed when he collected his precious bundle, in an ill fitting nappy, her baby gro all buttoned up wrong, with a giggling drunk Grandma and a slightly less giggling but still pretty drunk Grandad.

Frankie used to work at the Mad House so, ostensibly, she came round to give me some tips. After the first glass of wine though it was mainly silliness and giggling, well from me anyway. Once we’d finished her bottle of wine I opened one Commando had stashed in the kitchen for the weekend (he does like a glass or two on a Saturday night). Then I sent him a drunken text to tell him ‘sorry Commando, we drank your wine x.’ Frankie and I don’t have enough nights like this, even though we live so close to each other, then again, I could become an alcoholic if we did. My head hurts today.


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