southern sojourn

This weekend I’m off to London to visit the queen, well, ok, not really, just my husband for a weekend of gay abandon. It will be so nice to go home for a couple of days and indulge in those little pleasures, a cappuccino, people whose accent I can understand, colour television. When I come back I shall bring coffee and chocolate and nylon tights to sell on the black market. I’m leaving the children with my parents who, thank goodness, crashed the car again this week so the darlings won’t be going anywhere with my father behind the wheel. He is so keen to blend in I think he has found that exchanging insurance details is a good way to meet people. When I speak with him he often begins with ‘you’ll never guess who I bumped into the other day’. I think the locals have all grown rather fond of him and often speak about how much they love to come across that old chap who’s retired up north coming towards them in his car on the wrong side of the road at walking speed because it gives them an amusing story to tell when they eventually get to work. Of course we both find it a little awkward sometimes, my husband and I, when we sleep together for the first time in a few weeks, he seems a little forgetful of the procedure, but I find that if I whisper Farrow and Ball paint colours into his ear that soon gets him in the mood so wish me luck! This does mean that Strife in the North will also be having the weekend off but I do hope you’ll come back next week. It’s been great fun this week and lovely that people have come to read about how grim it is up north and I promise you that next week, I’ll be back. Have a jolly good weekend won’t you. Tootle pip!