Look, we’re not going to bloody Castlebar, ok?
So we had a lovely weekend. Another impromptu gathering saw us this time at the (immaculate) home of T the Taxi and his wife L, the School Secretary. We spent a long evening talking utter rubbish and eating L’s really nice sandwiches. All the kids gathered at The Lovelies’ next door and had running gun battles in the garden, then later retreated inside to the PlayStation. The range of conversation went from ‘should we buy a boat?’ (The Lovelies are seriously considering this – well, we live on a lough for goodness’ sake), to ‘shall we all go on holiday to this really nice hotel in Castlebar that A’s found’. Answer = boys: no (it’s not a holiday unless you go on a plane) and girls: yes (thinking of leaving the housework behind for a couple of days). In the end, the whole evening was littered with one or other of the Hubbies going ‘look, we’re not going to bloody Castlebar, ok?’ and it became a bit of a standard joke. Later in the weekend, Mr Lovely) even managed to intercept an e-mail between Mrs Lovely and I (she sent me a link to the hotel) with ‘look, we’re not going to bloody Castlebar, ok?’ on it. As usual, the children fell asleep where they dropped. When we went next door, #1 was asleep in someone’s bed (he was never a stayer) and #2, our own little Duracell bunny, was still awake. We took him and left the other. I’m loving this kid-sharing, it’s very liberating.
In other news, we’re starting to find that #1 understands a whole lot more than we give him credit for. This is a part of owning a teenager that I wasn’t quite prepared for. There’s always tons of family ‘fnar fnar’ moments at English Towers, but now, #1 is joining in. For example, we’re all in the garden in the glorious sunshine yesterday. #2 is watering plants and enquires innocently: ’Mum, have you watered your bush recently?’ Hubby and I collapse in hysterics. Shockingly, so does #1.
Later, at lunch (sirloin steak, garlic and herb butter, roasted vegetables, teeny tiny rosemary roasted potatoes, if you must know), I’m still trying to get Hubby to book a few days away. ‘Look’, says Hubby, ‘we’re not going to bloody Castlebar, okay?’. We all laugh. Then #1 alludes to #2′s bush comment. ‘I don’t get it’, says #2, ‘what’s so funny about asking Mum whether she’s watered her bush’. We all collapse again. I express shock that #1 would find this funny. ’Oh come on, Mum’, says #1 in a very worldly wise manner, ‘I’m 13 now’. And to #2 he tries tentatively: ’it’s, er, kind of a euphemism for something else’. #2 is none the wiser. ‘Well’, says I, trying to be diplomatic, ‘put it this way: Auntie Jen calls hers a ‘lady garden’. #2 cops on and is mortified.
Later, we take a trip round Eurospar. Mass has just kicked out and the place is packed with people in their Sunday best. #2 is trailing behind me. ‘Muuum’, he pipes up in a voice that needs no loudhailer, ‘what’s a SHOTGUN WEDDING’. I turn round and fix him with one of my Mum’s best ‘Paddington hard stares’. But he’s no quitter: ‘#1 says you had a shotgun wedding. I just want to know what it is’. By this stage, half the store is waiting anxiously for my reply. We dart through the checkouts and into the car, where I try to explain that although we’re a pretty liberal household, these conversations should not be brought to the supermarket.
Sheesh. I wonder where I’m going wrong.
OH’s son watched AliG the other week and I could see which parts he fully understood and those where he was laughing cos everyone else was!
I’m in that particular World of Sh*t myself these days…
Makes you all nostalgic for when they thought ‘fluff’ was funny and worked it into every possible sentence, doesn’t it? (sigh)
Wee One: Blimey, that’s a hell of a journey. I don’t see what’s wrong with Castlebar personally – 15 minutes from the beach – and on a lovely day like today too x
Jen: Too true. Bring back the ten minute giggle after every poo joke, I say. xx
Moon: Oh don’t curb your language. I never do. I live by the ‘do as I say, but if you do as I do I’ll break your legs’ rule. Works fine for me
Wee One: Blimey, he’s as bad as Hubby. I do really want to go to Castlebar though. You’ll have to let me know what he thought. x
Have you tried up around Westport? We used to spend summers near Croagh Patrick and it’s a lovely spot.