Honey I broke the kids. After running the Sport Relief 6 mile I hurt too much to carry L upstairs. Mr A was in San Francisco still. So when she fell asleep watching TV, we slept on the sofa.
Mr G chose which pieces of work he wanted Daddy to see from his books at parent’s evening. His pic of Max the dog.
Actually Mummy sent me some gin!
I turned round from my desk at the end of Friday to see this happy dawg. Struck me he’s settled in brilliantly.
Friday night was very bizarre. Six years ago I got very drunk with my ante natal group. One of them suggested we try this cabaret/carvery, it’s tucked away above the shops on our high street. Six years later, on Friday night, we finally did.
The roast dinner, although like queuing for school dinner, was surprisingly good and plentiful.
The pud was good too.
The entertainment was ex Britain’s got talent. His singing sketches were great, but he turned out to be a bit racist. Very awkward.
But the dj was spot on, seventies and cheese – turns out we aced the routine to Steps Tragedy. Who knew!
Mother’s Day was a walk, picnic, pond dipping, beautiful spring flowers.