I have meant to sit down and post about First Born's birthday, really I have but for some reason I just haven't. Not feeling very creative or communicative or something like that. Also, have been quite busy during the day when blog posts sort of crystallise (or congeal) in my brain as I wait for the boys to come out of school, or wait for buses.
So, what do I have to tell you about? Hmmm, let me think. Well, FB's birthday this year was a firmly Ghostbusters-themed event - he discovered the movies recently (if you are my age, don't work out how old they are - it will only depress you) and has been obsessed ever since. As a result, most of his birthday presents were Ghostbusters merchandise and came from Amazon-type suppliers. As a further result, I found myself at our local postal depot at 6am in the dark and cold two mornings running in order to pick up parcels which would not fit through our door. One of which turned out to be a keyring. A keyring, packed in a jiffy bag, then packed into a box too large to fit through our letterbox. I deserve mother of the year award, I really do. The ordeal was tempered somewhat when I stumbled into the little customer office and as I rang the bell for service, the postie jumped out from behind his door and went "Ta-da!!!!!" Nice to meet someone capable of humour at five past sparrow fart in the morning.
FB requested steak and chips for his birthday dinner last Thursday (for he is turning into a bloke) and then on Friday his friend came to stay and we took them all to the Mongolian Barbeque for dinner. This is the perfect dinner venue for small boys as it allows them to NOT stay seated and to mill about in the restaurant to their hearts' content as they collect a weird assortment of ingredients which are then cooked on a hotplate by a bloke in a big hat. Cooked WITH SWORDS. Small boy heaven. FB on his first trip to collect some food was examining the containers of raw meat (zebra! ostrich! springbok!) and wisely noted that we should be careful when handling it, as raw meat can give you semolina.
I had produced the requested Ghostbusters cake which the restaurant had kindly confirmed they would produce on cue with a sparkler in it. It turned up with something in it which looked for all the world like a distress flare - flames and sparks shooting all over the place. FB was entranced. He and his friend subsequently dismantled the corpse of the sparkler and spread "dead gunpowder" all over the table.
And then the weekend was over and we were back at work. A friend of mine has been unwell and in hospital so I popped in to see her a couple of times this week. I wasn't sure what to take in for her so settled for a carefully selected range of magazines including Woman's Weekly, People's Friend and - a lucky find - Margaret Thatcher: Her Life in Pictures. She nearly hit me with the last one.
And that's about it, really. Oh, apart from the fun moment yesterday at our big scary monthly meeting at work where I somehow managed to accidentally throw my pen across the table at the Chief Executive. He then got down on his hands and knees and crawled under the boardroom table to pick it up for me. I was too busy giggling to get it myself.
Finally, I have to tell you this quick story to illustrate one of the many reasons I married Husband: he was flicking through the channels and came to QVC. I wasn't looking at the time but knew it was QVC because he went "Eurgh!!!" and that's a noise he only really makes at QVC. They were selling a pair of teddies (horrid ones, naturally) called Rhubarb and Crumble. The annoying woman explained that they were so named because they were trying to think of names of things that went really well together.
"Gin and tonic!" I shouted.
"Arse and elbow!" shouted Husband. He wins.