Little L is having her first ever cold. And ever so generous, she passed it on to me. Not without mummy pride I realised that we managed to get pretty far without the slightest sign of a sniff. Can you believe that she’s five and a half months already?
If you want to create a wide smile on your husband’s/dad’s/brother’s face this Christmas, I can only recommend giving them tickets for a car related event. The smell of petrol and the sound of roaring engines will no doubt make their day, but leave you with either a headache or another day spent apart.
If you want to do yourself a favour, get them tickets for Goodwood Revival. Not only is the sheer number of classic cars that populate parking lots, racetracks and motor shows breathtaking; also the fashion interested female visitor’s eyes are likely to be pleased. The best bit about it: you get to play dressing up yourself.
The main advantage of a lacking relationship with your parents is the freedom that comes with it. When you are receiving nothing, nothing can be taken from you. And as soon as you break the vicious circle of copying the patterns that formed the dysfunctional relationship you used to have with your genitors (in my case that meant reaching for the non-available), you have all the freedom in the world to build your own family, patch it together with friends, siblings, grandparents and finally the love of your life and your own offspring.
My feet are once again walking on British soil. I am still feeling a bit seasick from the jet leg, and little L not wanting to settle back in doesn’t help. On top of it, I brought home a nasty could, thanks to the Americans’ OTT love for air conditioning. Yes, it’s hot out there, but do you have to cool down every room to minus 10 degrees Celsius?
Big M embarked on a trip this morning to spend the weekend on his brother’s stag ‘night’, leaving me with a thick and heavy cloud hanging over my head. Let’s called it the post-vacation blues.
I had a breakthrough yesterday. I am back in my jeans! Ok, only in those that used to fit the loosest, but it is a start.
Two weeks of stuffing myself with white bread and butter left me feeling a little bloated, to say the least. I didn’t want to be a killjoy, but I also didn’t want to demotivate my dieting self. That’s why I didn’t hit the scales when I came back form our delicious vacation. I am not as brave as Fab Brunette, sorry guys!
We were counting the days to our first family vacation. Two weeks on the French Atlantic coast. Our first holiday since our honeymoon and our first ever holiday as a family. Our expectations weren’t disappointed, au contraire! Although, I noticed a few little differences to the style in which we took on les vacances before having little L.
Two weeks on Île de Ré, and not only did I gain a tan, but also a few extra inches around the waist. My trousers appear to hug my hips in a tight embrace. The two stick together like first time lovesick teenagers. Let’s hope this summer romance isn’t more than a short-lived fling. You ask how this could happen? An analysis of photo material should bring light into this sombre affair.
After merely 12 hours drive, we arrived on Ile de Re. Ah, Fance, finally France! The food, the weather, the language and: the misunderstandings. I love it!
July is my favourite month. Not only are the market stalls laden with juicy strawberries and sweet melons, it is also the month of summer holidays, ice cream and BBQs. Oh, and it is my birthday in July, too.
While thinking of what to do this year, I was remembering last year’s birthday celebrations. All very well planned in secret by Big M to surprise me, the celebrations turned out to be a lot calmer than arranged for – the champagne remained unopened and the sushi untouched, as we were hit by an even bigger surprise just the day before.