….Painfully aware of the loudly ticking clock and urgent need to get the dogs outside for wee-ing and poo-ing – (ditto the kids, although I do allow them to use the bathroom these days – boom-boom!) I stumble down to face the onslaug….. the day.
Boy Wretch One up unusually early for revision purposes, and there’s breakfast to be conjured for both; aforementioned lashes to be drawn onto ‘face’ so’s not to scare the students; Boy Wretch Two’s packed lunch to be constructed (he won’t countenance a nice hot school lunch bugger it!), and a cup of tea to be consumed (by me before I kill someone) and one for The Egg (still languishing in bed – bastard!) – not to mention saving the world from an impending meteor (so that last bit’s a lie but honestly!) and all before 7.30 when I need to be out of the door and on my way to work. Herrumph!
Both Boy Wretches also need to be levered safely off to school but even though I work from time to time at their school (like today,) they won’t come with me in the car. Oh dear me no, that would be deeply uncool. They must travel with their pals on the school bus costing circa £2050 a year and cannot be seen within a five metre distance of their mother. Nice!
Anyway, this morning there is a commotion. There’s always a commotion on a Monday don’t you find? Boy Wretch One starts his mid-term exams today and there were teary eyes this morning when he realised he’s done bugger all work for them in spite of me and The Egg encouraging, cajoling, yelling at and then threatening – (the usual taking away phone/PC/you name it), in order to get him to recognise the relative values of revising and getting a few future GCSEs under his belt. The little blighter is a bright lad, so it’s doubly annoying.
So down he comes this morning frantically begging me to test him on his ill constructed revision flash cards a GNAT’S ARSE before I have to leave to drive to their school to ‘invigilate’ for some poor unsuspecting year 13 student – unsuspecting because they have absolutely no idea what kind of a foul mood their invigilator is in!
I inform Boy Wretch One that I am actually leaving for work right now, (in spite of still appearing to be here frantically stirring his porridge,) and regretfully don’t have time to test him at this precise moment! Hello? – You’ve had the entire past two weeks and you ask me for help NOW? His predictable response is that as I’m not going to test him as I’d promised, I must accept that it’s all my fault if he does really badly in his GCSEs and has no future. Feel an explosion rise in my chest. Deep calm breaths woman – deep, calm breaths!
Dexy-Dog begins to bark. He’s not ours by the way, we’re temporarily looking after him for my Super Stepson and his Gorgeous Girlfriend, but his propensity to know just when I don’t want him to bark and then to do it anyway is truly outstanding. Some uncharitable folks might suggest he’s psychic and does it just to piss me off. What’s more, it’s a strangely high-pitched girly sort of a bark for such a big old boy – apparently his bark changed into to an eerie other worldly soprano style ‘ruff’ when he had his balls removed. I’m not sure if that’s a lie but it makes sense I suppose, and I idly wonder whether The Egg’s pitch would become similarly heavenly should the same fate befall him – it brings a wry smile to my tightly clenched lips….
‘Post New Year Blues – Part Three’ coming soon….