Family Affairs and other matters

I’m back from my self-imposed blog exile with a twitch and cold sweats.

This might be more to do with having to attend a disco on Friday night where the DJ was 12 and assumed we all wanted to listen to the Grease medley and do the Birdie song because we were ancient. Consequently I had to drink vast quantities of pub wine to dance to “I Will Survive” with gusto. Which meant Saturday was a little painful. I’m glad I went to see my parents. My grandmother is a multi-coloured mess. She has purple fingers, a pink cast on her arm up to her armpit and a green and blue and yellow face. Poor thing. I think she appreciated the visit though.

I took my 8 year old to the hospital for a blood test today. His Dr thinks that it might be worth checking him for diabetes because of his weight. He was SO brave. The phlebotomist (weird title) couldn’t find the vein in one arm, poked about for ages and then had to put the needle in the other arm. He didn’t even flinch. I nearly fainted.

We had to sit for a bit in the car waiting for his sister to come out of school. His conversation ranged from:-

“Can you believe I’ve never been on the stage or on television yet and I’M EIGHT?”.

“Can I enter Britain’s Got Talent next year? Don’t make me do my Elvis Presley impersonation though” What shall I do?

“Does Britney still have a bald head?”

“Did you know that my Deputy Headmaster used to be gay?” “How do you know that?” I asked him. “Because you know that other teacher who came to babysit for me the other day? She told me”.