“Want a quote, love?”

A funny blog post about uninvited visitors, from Midlife Dramas in PyjamasWas quite happily vacuuming (well, I say ‘happily’ obviously I mean ‘begrudgingly’) the hall when the doorbell rang. Entered porch to see slowly retreating back of a rather large, grubby looking, badly dressed, bald man.

(I’m not large-ist or bald-ist in the slightest – but the grubby looking, badly dressed bit was putting me about somewhat.)

Realised he’d not seen me, so quickly turned round and went back into the house – then stopped. What if he now turned round and saw me behind the glass door? Hall light was on and he’d see me moving. Nowhere to hide. So went back into the porch and opened the front door. By now he’d sauntered all way to the edge of the drive. On hearing the door open he stopped, turned, and  looked at me expectantly with eyebrows raised. As if I’d rung his doorbell.

“Yes?” I shouted – couldn’t believe I was having to shout to speak to someone who’d just rung my bloody doorbell. He pointed at his feet.

Him: Want a quote, love?

Me: Pardon?

Him (bit louder): Want a quote, love?

Me: A quote for what?

Him: Drive

Me: No thanks, not at the moment.

Him: Want a quote for future?

Me: Err…no thanks.

He adjusted his trousers, scratched himself, waved and loped back to his van.

No thank you – I certainly do not want a quote from someone who speaks to me in badly constructed sentences, looks like he’s spent the week living in a skip, happily scratches his nether regions in front of me and to top it all off – has only one tooth!!

Football Fun Day – NOT!

A funny blog post about enduring a football fun day, from Midlife Dramas in PyjamasYoungest son’s football team had a ‘Fun Day’ last weekend, so we loyally went along. As predicted the only fun was had by our son; trying to see how much money he could get out of us – for him and his friend to waste spend on ‘fun’.

The tiniest burgers inside the hugest buns were forced down by the four of us,  extortionately expensive (and not that pleasant) cupcakes were purchased by me and a completely ridiculous amount of tombola tickets were bought by the boys. The lure of possibly winning a bottle of shampoo, a tiny bar of chocolate, a crocheted toilet roll cover, a plastic mug with a picture of flowers on it or a toddler’s colouring book was obviously too great.

They didn’t win any of them.

Both boys thoroughly enjoyed a game of bubble football: child is strapped into a massive inflatable bubble and then rolls around the pitch. Aim is to push a football between each other and ultimately score. From what I could see the kids didn’t give a toss about the football – they just enjoyed rolling around the pitch.

The one bit of ‘fun’ (for us) came when son’s bubble rolled over too far, got stuck and left him dangling completely upside down. I eventually managed to stop laughing enough to go over and roll him upright – but on husband’s video of the whole thing I can clearly be heard saying , “Don’t help him up until you’ve taken a picture.” Dear me, not a model mother then…

(I’d like to point out that no sons or bubbles were harmed in this incident)

The two of them hooked ducks in a barrel, tossed hoops onto sticks, kept returning to the over-priced second-hand tat stall, drank copious amounts of fizzy pop, ate vast quantities of cheap sweets and played tug-of-war…with themselves. When it started to cloud over we sent up a silent prayer to the weather Gods, then tried to sound sincere as we said, “Oh no! What a shame…we’re going to have to go.”

Trying not to smile too much we dragged them out of the queue for the under 8s bouncy castle (they’re 13!), quickly marched them past the ‘Name the (******* huge) Teddy’, swerved deftly away from the chocolate fountain that several snotty-nosed kids had shoved their fingers into – and left.

Phew! We’d done our bit for another year. Large gins here we come!

Mustn’t complain…we’re British!

A funny blog post about not complaining by Midlife Dramas in PyjamasWent out for a walk and snack lunch, with hubby and one of the teens. Turned out to be one of the worst lunches I’ve ever had. Nothing to do with the company – they were lovely. But typically British.

Ordered a goat’s cheese and tomato toastie – Oh. My. God. It arrived looking like a limp, pathetic, anaemic rag. I opened it up – it wasn’t even sealed – and couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Very little I tell you! Very little! I immediately had three issues with said ‘toastie’. Keep on reading!

One Year Ago Today…

One year ago today I started my blog – two months after my 50th birthday. Call it a midlife crisis if you will; cheaper than buying a sports car and more seemly than running off with the gardener…  Keep on reading!

It’s in the jeans…

A funny blog post about shopping for jeans with the hubby by Midlife Dramas in PyjamasFinally managed to talk husband into buying new jeans. He’s only had the last lot for 10 years…so actually I’ve done quite well getting him to agree to a wardrobe update so soon! He declared he needed a couple of pairs in total. I declared he needed a few pairs for ‘every day’ and a few pairs for ‘going out’. Eyes were rolled… Keep on reading!

Glam V Grungy!

Glam V Grungy! Funny blog post from Midlife Dramas in PyjamasI often go to the supermarket looking like I’ve been sleeping under a railway bridge for a week: hair scraped up, no make-up, tracksuit bottoms, scruffy trainers, pyjama top (I kid you not) and shapeless cardigan (buttoned up to hide the pyjama top!) Keep on reading!