Blonde (again)

Oh I really do astound myself with my utter blondeness sometimes. Take yesterday afternoon for example: seeing as me and the sprogs are heading over to the UK shortly, my darling, lovely, wonderful and much-missed friends C&R have taken it upon themselves to organise a little girly spa bonding time for us at the wondrous Champneys (woohoo!) and even better they were running a ‘buy one, get one free’ offer. So, it all began when R sent a text which said ‘oh bugger, the Friday is fully booked, can you do Monday?’ to which I replied ‘no worries’ thinking that my Mum would be fine with that. By the way, R didn’t really say bugger, she’s not that vulgar, I’m afraid that’s a me-ism. Anyhoo, as an afterthought I sent my Mum a text telling her about the change to the Monday to which she replied ‘uh oh, no I can’t - Wimbledon’. Bum. So, a cunning plan formed in my normally empty cranium and I swiftly sent Disreputable Dad an email asking, nay, begging him to have the children on the Monday so I could go to the spa. ‘Please…’, I simpered, ‘I wouldn’t normally ask, but it’s Champneys…think of my pores…’ yada yada yada, whilst all the time secretly worrying that he’d take them to Spearmint Rhino’s or to a casino or something.

So then (keep up) R sent another text that said that they had available spa days on the Friday, along with prices etc and was that okay, meaning that these were different from the BOGOF offer. ‘Of course!’ I joked, ‘I’m married to a big shot! Prices shmices’ etc, totally focusing on the fact that the price seemed quite reasonable, rather than registering that she was back on the Friday route again.

Finally R sent us both a confirmation email for the Friday, and I suddenly realised what an arse I’d been. Sending another email to the Disreputable One asking him to disregard my shameless begging, I realised that I must calm down and do things properly before setting off these ridiculous chains of events that seem to haunt me (remember the diesel?).

Ah well, it’s all sorted now. And I’ve just realised that was a really long, rambling, Ronnie Corbett* type story without a punchline, so I apologise in advance. Anyway, I cheered right up again when I received another message from C: ‘This is so exciting! Only 17 sleeps to go!’. Woohoo!

*Many thanks to Flirty (see links) for reminding me about Ronnie Corbett-type stories

No Comments »