Where to start?...

Dear God, it's been a day and a half today. After a peaceful reprive of a coffee before he got up (and Jeremy Kyle - wrong, I know, but it makes me feel "there are always others worse off than yourself, but seriously, what kind of net do they use to get these people?) he gets up and potters about a bit. The neighbour comes in and tells us our zapper for locking and unlocking the car (key - why didn't that word spring to mind?) was on the same thingy as his door bell. Every time we lock or unlock the car his door bell rings. I tried not to chortle but inwardly I was pissing myself laughing, especially thinking about how last night I'd left both my purse and phone in the car and retrieved them separately... The thought of next door's wife coming down the stairs in her winceyette at silly o'clock had me biting my cheeks (yes I have an evil streak).

He then decides to take me out with him to take photos. We took the dog (why?). The hill almost killed me, I mean this hill would have put Sir Edmund Hilary off tackling Everest, but I channelled the dog's strength into pulling me up it. I then realised this was not a romantic walk in the countryside, I was being used as a pack horse (note how I say a pack horse and not an elegant dressage horse - no, I'm like a pit pony, or the thelwell pony if I'm being brutally honest) and off he tramps with his camera in hand, me trying to take pics on my mobile (I'll upload them tomorrow - just to bore you lol), with the camera bag slapped across my ample clevage, the dog winding himself around my legs and trying to dodge all the sheep muck (because I wouldn't be allowed in the car if I had any on my shoes) and then the dog starts limping. Bloody hell. Off he comes to do his Dr. Doolittle bit like Superman with his cape billowing behind him, and like a bright spark he takes the lead off him. Well, I don't think I can do this justice, but that little beast was like a bottle of lemonade that you put a sweetie in and watch it go "kaboom". He was doing spins, running off like a Gazelle, coming back (I'm sure he was aiming for me to get a direct hit) and then tried to pee on hubby's camera bag... fortunatley the bellowing of husband brought him back to heel (I'd have been burying him if he had Christened the bag - the dog, not hubby). Nothing wrong with his foot now then... We decide to start and walk down the desent from hell with me saying "please put the lead back on the dog or he'll..." and off he went. Jesus, you'd think he was going for a land speed record. We've only just got him micro-chipped, but maybe we should have got a "stop" button attached too. Next thing I know, hubby's passing me like Mo Farrell in a bid to catch him, which he did, but only because the dog was waiting for him at the car. I passed them both on the way down as hubby was taking the dog back to the top to teach him that he should wait... I knew what was going to happen, but thought it would be worth watching so I said nothing (I've already mentioned I have an evil streak). I continue my way down the hill only to hear "my name, name of dog and my name again" bellowing from behind me. I turn around only to see the dog hurtling towards me. I heard the "whoosh" as he raced past with the sideways glance of "nah nah nah naahhhhh na - you can't catch me" (which would have been true if I'd even tried to), and there he was sitting patiently at the boot of the car when I finally got through the sodding iron gates (still laiden with camera paraphernalia). I asked hubby what had gone wrong and he said "I took him back up the hill to show him he should have sat and let me put his lead on so I could walk him down the hill. I turned around to put the lead on and he was off. I walked the sodding hill for nothing". Another inward chortle. The dog then played on the limping bit by walking around like John Wayne, but we know better - little bugger. Rang the vet's just incase but they think he just stung his foot. Hubby then says "that wouldn't have happened if he was on the lead"... more inward thoughts...

I then had littley come home from school and ask me if I would mind going in to show them how to draw. I said I could if it was an afternoon only for her to say "I've already told my teacher that you'll be coming in"... huge sigh.

To top if all off, just before bedtime, middley decides that she does want to make an effort for the disco on her school trip (Wednesday). Middley is never interested in her appearance, so I don't know what's happened but OMG, "what dress am I going to wear?" DRESS? Dress? She being the child that refuses to wear dresses because they're too girly? Bloody Hell - who have I upset today? This means that we then have to go through biggey's wardrobe looking for things that on any other occasion she would never look twice at. We finally hit upon a dress only for her to say "what shoes will I wear?" This almost had me at tipping point. Finally she has her outfit for the disco - none of which belongs to her, but she will look lovely :o).

I've had about 16 chocolate fingers, although I managed them in about 8 mouthfuls (admit it, you can fit a whole one in your mouth too, it's just that I'm gifted and I can get two in at a time) so really the calorie content was dramatically reduced due to condensing them two at a time.

All in all it's been a knackering day, and I for one will be glad of bedtime. x