My Daily Sigh.
Evening, I hope for little miracles every day.
Maybe one day, someone might bring the washing in and put it all away.
Maybe, one day my children might go shopping and come back with what I expected, and not the deluxe expensive items that make you wish you’d gone yourself.
Maybe, one day my husband and I might leave for an important event with loads of time instead of getting caught in traffic, hurriedly park in a services lorry park and get dressed for a wedding in full view of local picnickers.
Maybe, one day my class might understand my stressed class assembly rehearsal instructions “come forward and say ‘hands together, eyes closed’ ” and not just come forward, bow their heads, stand in prayer and say nothing.
Here’s wishing for little miracles, I think I might drink the only one likely to happen.
Evening, it’s been a scorcher of a day and my fat Lipedema swollen ankles have struggled and caused discomfort. In the winter they caused Ugg gate and now, in a heatwave, flip flop gate. It’s tricky having feet and legs that don’t cope with classy and sophisticated footwear.
Tonight it was the school summer fair, I had a stint on the tattoo stall. Not being an expert I watched as a colleague administer the first one. She wet it, patted it, gave it a rub and hey presto, there was one happy customer!
Lets hope England don’t need a tattoo to score.
Evening, it’s coming home. We watched the second half of the England football match at the pub where our son works. He’s home from Russia, but possibly wishing he wasn’t.
BM and Pal were up to drinking several pints, but were less convincing in their ‘E-N-G-L-A-N-D’ arm waving and singing. Their style was more thespian than thug. Son held his head in shame! Being the designated driver I drove them home and asked BM to hold my handbag. Several pints meant he failed to hear the key word ‘bag’ and held my hand instead.
Both drinkers had a nap before I drove them back to a curry house for more alcohol to be consumed. I am not fetching them, so let’s hope they’re coming home.
Evening, it’s been one of those days! I decided to strip a few display boards in the classroom and replace the backing paper. it’s a thankless task of mess, paper, staples and sore fingers.
Like the England football team, I was going for Gold. Like the England football team, I wasn’t successful. The paper went up, wonky and not looking great. Good friends put me and my backing paper straight. Gold has gone, cool blue and pretty pink are in its place.
I’m sorry the England football match didn’t have a different outcome but it’s good to see both country and game bringing people together.
I feel my dodgy attempts at display did the same, never have so many people been in my classroom, to give their opinion of my wall.
Evening, a lovely weekend celebrating a family members 50th wedding anniversary which included a luncheon party, cabaret, breakfast and to finish off, a cooling swim in a pool!
After spending time with the younger generation I am now aware of a dilemma I may well have experienced before, but not been able to verbalise, a front wedgie! I now know why I like to wear long length tunics. They cover any FW issues!
This morning I awoke in a different bed. I nearly knocked myself out as I bent down to pick up a mug of tea. My ageing eyesight failed to spot the pointy corner of the overhead cupboard. As I nursed my sore head, feeling shaky, I adjusted my eyesight, took a sip of tea and spotted the mug…exactly!
Evening, hearing loss seems to be a recurring issue.
At the weekend 50th anniversary party there was plenty of delicious left over cake to take home. As a slightly tiddly and giggly BM went to put his suitcase in the car boot, several voices, including mine exclaimed loudly “ mind the cake!” His alcohol fuelled brain failed to comprehend the words being said, his boozy blurred vision failed to even see a cake. He gleefully chucked his case on top of the cake and found his suitcase unexpectedly iced!
I phoned my parents this evening to discuss a holiday visit. My mum said If I wanted, I could join her for a talk at her ladies group. I said it depended on what the talk was about. I was surprised to hear it was about “Naked Man” Shocked and visualising Chippendales for the elderly, I queried further. My mother, equally shocked replied “ Naked Jam NOT man!”
I thought the older generation was supposed to be hard of hearing…BM and I are now that generation.
Honestly Fiona xxx