Those mofos took everything, every scrap of clothing including the dirty laundry!!
We are currently PC-less. Not ideal for business OR Weezafish - I can read posts and comments with my phone, but that's about it. But never fear!
Normal service will be resumed very soon, there's no way this family will ever let the bar stewards get us down.
And in the meantime, you lucky, lucky peeps, my truly wonderful bessie mate, the lovely Kate from over at http://donotbreakthedog.blogspot.co.uk/ has graciously agreed to post this for me AND add a Guest Post of her own.
You know those friends you feel lucky to have met? That's Kate. Her writing, whether just an email to me, or one of her blog posts or kids' stories, her writing inspires me to write better.
So I'll shut up now and let the woman speak . . .
How Will You Be Remembered..? By Kate at http://donotbreakthedog.blogspot.co.uk/
At dinner the other night, we - my husband (known as 'BB' to preserve his anonymity) our children (aged 14, 11 & 9) and I were discussing a recent-ish party held to celebrate BB's parents' 70th birthdays.
It had been a lovely 'do' with lots of friends and family, good food and bunting (I do like bunting) and a large, large garden to hold it in. Not ours, I hasten to add. The only thing you could hold in our garden is your breath - and you'd be well advised to do so, after the dog's been out there. But I digress. . .
It fell to BB to make a speech (and it was a good one) which he rounded off with the 12 grandchildren taking it in turns to deliver some of the Memorable Phrases that BB's parents had uttered. Phrases which, over the years, have taken on legendary status within the family, but would mean little or nothing to the innocent bystander. For example:
"Wolves don't play basketball!" and, "Suddenly I realised it was a plaster allergy".
Yeah. You had to be there really.
Naturally, being relatively self-centred, BB and I asked our kids what they'd say at our 70th birthday party.
Unfortunately the only quotes they came up with involved way too many expletives to repeat in polite company.
But I couldn't help wondering, aside from the whole swearing thing, how my children really would remember me - and if it bore any relation to how I would like to be remembered, or even how I see myself?
Do they see me as a halfway decent mum? Not too embarrassing, not too aloof?
Do they see me as a necessary evil? Bit of a pain, but with her uses (dinners made, clothes cleaned etc)?
Do they see me at all sometimes? :-)
I would love it if they remembered me as a fragrant, calm mother with an enviable figure - who is always ready with a home-baked cake and well-timed pearl of wisdom.
But I am not entirely unrealistic - and in order for them to remember me like this, I would have to actually be like this from time to time.
So really I just hope I'm not only remembered as the harridan who sends them to bed much earlier (allegedly) than any of their friends.
Or as the frowny creature who snaps at them when she's cooking.
I hope that somewhere along the line they remember me with a fond smile. At random moments - perhaps when they trim their own Christmas trees, and find the decorations I painted for them way back when.
Or when they see something - anything - on the telly about World War II.
Hopefully they will enjoy the memory of some of the silly things I've said and done.
Like when I asked No1 son's teacher which part of Ireland he was from, and the answer came back, 'Canada'.
Sometimes I have a go at trying to be the person I would like them to remember. Taking a breath before I answer, 'not on your life, sunshine' - and instead saying, 'Yes, why not?'
But, more often than not, life and 'things that have to be done' have a habit if getting in the way - making me forget to smile more often, and take extra time with the kids.
(Anyway, if I'm too nice it only unsettles them.)
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that memories are just that - things that you remember.
It can be anything. Good stuff, bad stuff, boring stuff, funny stuff. And it's an idea to remember sometimes that it wasn't always as bad as you remember, and sometimes not always as good, either.
But, whatever it is, it is your stuff.
I can't control what my kids will remember - I was a nicompoop to think for even a second that I could.
All I can do is hope. Hope that they grow up with Generally Happy Memories.
Of me, of their dad - and of all of us, as a family.
And if their memories do, inevitably, involve my frown-lines - then so be it.
At least it will be my face. And besides, they're the ones who put the frown there in the first place!
(Only kidding. Kind of. Well... it's not always them.)
Yep, I would much rather they remembered the real me because that, after all, is life.
Our life. Our memories.
And they may even be different to each others - but they are all real.
* * * * * * * * * * *
And just in case my kids need any prompts, here are a few things I would like to be remembered for:
- Making nice cakes (and not just for birthdays)
- Painting little wooden folk
- Always having a 'Book Idea' I was working on
- Being irreverant and sometimes amusing
- Going to their assemblies
- Making them good Book Character Day costumes
- Picking them up from school every day
And here are some things I think they might actually remember me for:
- Trying to catch the gentleman (who had dropped something) in Sainsbury's attention by calling out, "Ahoy!" at the top of my lungs
- Complaining that the house is always untidy
- Never finishing any of my 'Book Ideas'
- Being rubbish at maths
- Occasionally screaming like a banshee at them
- The one and only time the school had to call me to come and pick them up. (Why would they finish at 1pm just because it's the end of term? I had just settled down to watch a re-run of Secret Army, dammit)
I could be wrong, of course. Who knows how our kids really see us?
But it would be fun to find out!
http://donotbreakthedog.blogspot.co.uk/ - My door is always open!
In the meantime, I wish you all . . . Happy Memories.
Come back soon, Weezafish - we miss you xxxx