Hi Blog,

Following on last year’s successful post of ‘Things that I have done to put off doing my tax return’, here we find ourselves again. This means that it is January.  I am not in full procrastination mode yet as I do in fact have weeks before the deadline of 31st Jan-submit-your-Self Assessment form – and- pay-tax- owed – else-you-will-incur-a-100 (british) pound-fine.

This might suggest that you, my dear blog, shall be fully exercised as a blog between now and that deadline.  I shall become a prolific blogger…..temporarily.

It might also suggest that my house, during my Self Assessment Submission Procrastination Period,  will get a shake up and shake out of all things unnecessary ………..’Do we need two dogs? One would cover it. I probably don’t need three children – especially as two have the same colouring and they are all the same sex. I’d better keep the Husband as there is only one of him along with the one teenager.’

The Prodigal

He lives with my brother.  This brother could be likened to Sherlock Holmes – not for his drug proclivity but for his sharp, analytical mind. He also doesn’t care for people nor parties involving people. He’d probably attend a party of him, his dog and maybe his incredible shrinking and expanding and shrinking friend whom he also refers to as Fat Pikey…..to his face.

Now – this brother (and I’m not even going to touch on my deep, deep, deep, true gratitude for him and his wife – the most laid back woman within the Northern Hemisphere but don’t cross her especially if she has her knitting needles out) is the one person that seems to tie the Prodigal up into such intellectual/spiritual…physical (?maybe – I’m not against it if it’s for the good of the Prodigal) knots that the Prodigal appears to be in control of his ……what to call them…….indulgences for self destruction.

In short, the Prodigal, is going well and in no little way is, my brother, his wife – their family, to thank for this.

The Face

As the Prodigal rises from the ashes of despair, the Face seems to be about to trip into the pit.

Did I tell you, Blog, that last November he was suspended from school?

Voicemail from the school secretary:

‘Bonjour…., blah, blah, blah..et je ne suis pas certain that I want to say zis on ze telephone but when ze Face’s teacher told ze class and one pupil in particular to be quiet, ze Face shouted out zat ze teacher should:

‘Shove a dick in ‘is arse’

Please call me back to deeiscuss.’

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I’ve deduced (like it? The Sherlock reference?          no? ok) from data that the Face is in a gay relationship with his best friend.

The facts:

-They spend lots of time getting ready to go nowhere

-they share the same bed when sleeping at the friend’s house

-they send kisses emotions  emojis (?) to each other

and by no means the most compelling evidence:

-I found a used condom rolling around my tumble drier (I was lucky it was rolling and not indelibly attached to the inner wall of the tumbling part. I still remember how long it took me to pick off the bits of melted plastic when my husband decided to ‘help’ by putting an anti-peepee mattress protector into the machine).         

This used condom had fallen out of his jeans.   His jeans that he had worn to spend the night at his friend’s house.  And I know he stayed there  because:

Mobile phone ringing.  It’s from the Face. I pick up –

‘Hi Face, what time do I collect you from training tonight?’

‘………..’

‘the face? Are you there?’

‘……’

‘The face??? You rang me. It’s your mother.’

‘Mum? Mum?’

(it goes like this every call)

‘Yes, Face. What time do I collect you?’

‘Actually, I’ve decided not to go to training. All my friends just happen to be in the Town of Nowhere at the same time ‘

‘What a coincidence.’

‘yes, anyway, can I stay at my friend, L’s house?’

‘What? Well, how do I know that you aren’t making this up and are actually going to a pre-arranged all night drugs and sex party (or about to have physical relations with girl(s), put the used condom in your pocket for me to retrieve from my tumble drier)?’

‘Ok I’ll get my friend to confirm’ – because of course, I would believe him ?????

scramble scramble, friend arrives

‘Oui, c’est L et oui ze Face, il peut rester avec moi ce soir.’

Well, that’s ok then. Why would they lie?

As they were both telling the truth it can only mean that he spent the night with his male friend and it involved a condom.  what else can I be led to believe?      This is a piece of wind up material that both myself and my husband have pounced on and have as yet unleashed.

 

The Professor

Continues to get 20/20 or thereabouts in his tests. Continues to enjoy little maths puzzles that the husband gives him – these are normally questions from the Face’s text book. The Face is now 16.

Has stopped talking to me about football. I think this is because he has realised at the age of 9, how intellectually inferior I am to him so our exchanges are now mostly limited to

‘Where is my Barcelona shirt?’ and ‘What can I eat?’

His love life remains complicated – the girl in question loves him as well as his best friend.  I’ve found her letters to him…and you’ve got to hand it to her – she declares her love for him and him only whilst at the same time demanding that he never shows the letters to his best friend.

I need to give the Professor some singing lessons. What he lacks in melodiousness, he makes up for in volume. He has started to sing hymns. One hymn in fact. Over and over and over and over. I’m sure that the Angels in Heaven can hear him and are delighted.

The Lips

‘When can I have my sleepover that you promised me for my birthday?’

This is now becoming a daily question.

To be fair, his birthday was in September.

As honesty is the best policy (or in other words, the fobbing off was only accepted by him for 3 months), I suggested:

‘The thing is, Lips, your friends are basically a massive pain in the arse.  If they were well behaved, I would have had them over ages ago.’

He nodded his head and agreed.

Does this mean the end of the question? Probably not.

Fatty

Youtube – we watched it together a few weeks ago.  I have to admit that I have an interest in all things slapstick so FailArmy normally gets a viewing from me.  One clip showed an angry faced, big boned American woman stomp up to a car and shouted in the open window:

‘DO YOU HAVE CIGARETTES ?’

Shocked and surprised, the passenger replies ‘No, and I don’t even smoke.’

‘WELL, FUCK OFF!’

We all laughed. I felt a moments shame as I was the responsible adult in the room and I laughed harder than my four children whilst trying to convey that you must never say that and it is bad, bad, bad….

Fatty laughs

he runs out of the room to my husband, sitting at the table:

‘Papa? Papa? Papa?

‘What, fatty?’

‘FUCK OFF‘

to my continued shame, I laughed again and harder but tried to cover it up with my hand and jumper.  Very convincing.

 

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So anyone who has managed to get down this far – WELL DONE! Don’t I go on?

Here’s a photo of something that made me laugh and at the same time, compelled me to buy it……..actually, as my procrastination is not in Full Mode yet, I can’t be bothered to load the photo.  It was a bar of chocolate called ‘Sports chocolate’.

Here is another photo of the Pyrenees at dawn (2 hours drive away hence the dodgy photo with my 200mm lens when in fact, I need a 2,000,000mm lens). Relevant? not very.

Thank you for reading. And expect another blog tomorrow or as soon as I start my nightly Self Assessment Form panic attacks.