I am torn

Torn between telling you about a) the latest stupid government initiative that has made me spit; b) the clothes I have bought to wear to the assorted stupid weddings we’re going to that nearly but don’t quite match; and c) the fact that I have just eaten a much melted and reset Marathon bar that has been in my car glove box since last September and how ill I’m now feeling.

None of them are particularly inspiring or interesting eh? But such is my life so you’re getting all 3.

a) Without further ado the government is addressing childhood obesity. And this is how they are doing it. They are going to weigh and measure every 5 year old and every 11 year.

That should do it then. They’ll all stop eating junk and start exercising immediately is my guess, especially as the results are confidential.

There are only two drawbacks to this cunning plan that I have spotted (so far . . .) – can you guess what they are? Don’t bother I’ll tell you.

1. They’re not planning on doing anything with this information; it’s for
information purposes.

2. Parents can opt out.

Guess which parents have opted out? You’ll never believe it but all the parents of the fat kids have refused this fine government offer.

b) Weddings – what a bore. I know, I know, I bored you all with mine but I didn’t invite you did I? I didn’t expect you to turn up and be bored to tears did I?

The sister of Himself is finally tying the knot to some poor bugger who despite the fact that he copped a feel of my arse (last weekend) while I was a bit tiddly, I still feel sorry for him. (I pretended not to notice cos to be honest I was a bit shocked, had I been sober I expect he’d have a black eye) (I told Himself who did not sort him out, but laughed like a drain) (what kind of a husband is that?) (I didn’t tell SIL) Still, if he’s doing that sort of thing I don’t think it’s a match made in heaven even though we have to sit through the happy (sic) couple having damn communion on top of bl**dy prayers and hymns and readings and any manner of endless shite.

Worse still the bride has insisted on frock coats and crap for the 4 brothers and groom. Himself is considering appendicitis, self harm, arrest and imprisonment, sectioning, running away, killing himself to get out of it, but has resigned himself to bitter weeping and getting completely off his face and looking a prick. He has promised me anything I want with knobs on if I do the driving. So it’s not all bad.

My outfit though, has hit a bit of a sticky wicket because:- first I bought a cream jacket with a pattern in red around the bottom.

Then I bought some red trousers but didn’t have the jacket with me, so they’re not quite the right red.

Then I bought a cream dress with red flowers on, again without the jacket, and this was a different red again.

Then I saw those shoes and they too are a different red.

Then I saw another jacket (in the sales, in the sales) which was all red and I thought would be bound to go with something but yet again it’s

different!

How can there be so many shades of red? It’s a mystery. I don’t want to go to the stupid wedding anyway.

c) I still feel sick and that Marathon bar was an hour ago now.

Oh yes, addendum to b) I have a new red handbag also – I do believe that the future fashion trend is to wear almost but not quite matching everything and no knickers obviously.

See?!