“Blessed are the curious for they shall have adventures”

We’re two days into the school holidays and I’m actually quite looking forward to climbing that mountain at the weekend just for a bit of bloody peace!

Aoife is tired, I think she needs to sleep for a week.
As we’ve learnt, a tired (or hungry) Aoife is a grumpy Aoife.
She is talking a lot but saying very little and on the rare occasions she has run out of things to say she just makes noises. Or sings.
It’s constant!
She starts asking for lunch at 8.30 am (after her two and a half course breakfast).
She starts asking for dinner before she’s even finished her lunch!
“What can I have on Thursday?”
“On Thursday?”
“Yes on Thursday, for dinner”
“Aoife man, we’ve not finished Tuesday yet!”

Aoife is also spending a lot of time next to me.
Like RIGHT next to me.
Like ‘I can’t move one side of my body as she’s attached to me’, next to me.
Don’t get me wrong, I love cuddles with her and that she wants to be with me but I get a little claustrophobic when she’s RIGHT THERE.
“If you’re happy and you know it tap your head….why aren’t you tapping your head?”
“Because I’m making you more flipping food!”

Meanwhile, Seth is becoming increasingly frustrated because he is still a boy of very few words and I’m a Mummy who sometimes just can’t guess what he wants.
I have come to realise that a plastic cup thrown at me means
“Mummy, could you kindly fill this receptacle with a beverage for I am rather thirsty”.
Being shoved towards the kitchen means
“Could you be a doll and prepare me some dinner please?”
At the dinner table, a shove or kick of my right elbow translates as
“Please put more food in my face”.
Unfortunately I still don’t know what ‘shrill scream’ means and I can’t change a DVD quite fast enough for his liking.

Both of them think that  because there’s a lot of me I make a terribly good bouncy castle/ trampoline/crash mat so I’m constantly being dived on. I tried doing a workout with them around, they seemed to think that me doing sit-ups meant
“Please, one of you sit on my throat whilst the other elbow drops me in the stomach”
And a push up is clearly an invitation to pretend I am a bridge.

As I said, that mountain looks VERY appealing and I’m strangely looking forward to it now.

We’ve booked a lovely little cottage, right in the middle of a field.
It looks gorgeous and cosy.
The kind of place that a British horror film would be made, you know the one.
Lovely, peaceful surroundings.
Calm and relaxing.
The children aren’t there, the silence is deafening.
You let your guard down, there’s no one around.
You leave the door open to let in a breeze…. NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU SCREAM.
That kind of place.

No children though.

On Sunday I put on my ugly shoes to ‘wear them in’, a professional walking term I believe. I got them on eventually after tripping over them and nearly putting my hip out (seriously, I’m getting injured before I even leave Leeds, I wasn’t feeling positive)!
I feel ridiculous in them, like the love child of Herman Munster and Wreck it Ralph.
It’s like I lose all control of my feet and crush everything in my path.

My PE kit is all clingy and unflattering to anyone with a wobbly bit (of which I have a few) I’m hoping this works in my favour and will make me move faster so no one will see me. I ordered everything in black so I’d blend in but now am secretly worried that I’ll fall down a crevice (or canyon would be more my size) and I’ll blend in too much and no one will find me. I can’t imagine Vodafone has great mountain coverage.

My mum is lending me a waterproof jacket to complete the sexy mountain ensemble and I’ve absolutely drawn the line at a ‘fleece’ *retch*.

Rory says we don’t need a compass as neither of us know how to use one anyway.
I hope he’s right or the poor lad will be getting in the ear for ETERNITY if he loses me.
Or maybe that’s his hope.

I’ve dyed my roots, painted my nails and dug out my waterproof eyeliner.

I’m ready to rock and roll (hopefully not literally).

Do me a favour, if I’ve not updated my blog by Friday 5th could you please alert the relevant authorities.

I’ll probably be up Snowdon, blending in in black and weeping, send one of those wine dogs!

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