Family Affairs

Good grief. It’s so lovely to be back with my kids but what a difference a few days make.

Here is the difference between a morning away BY MYSELF in a Bangkok hotel compared to a morning at home:-

BANGKOK

7 am: Still asleep

8 am: Still asleep

8.30 am: Wake up, get ready in leisurely manner for breakfast. Main decision is on whether to put underwear or swimming costume under clothes – oh and whether to put waterproof or normal mascara on.

8.45 am: Stroll along corridor to have breakfast. Next major decision to be made involves whether to have fresh fruit before or after pancakes, how that weird toast machine works, whether to have tea or coffee and what table works best with the fantastic view of the city below.

9.15 am: Feeling marginally sick after eating too many pancakes and thinking about cancelling all plans to do 20 lengths of pool owing to risk of either getting cramp or sinking to the bottom.

9.30 am: By pool. With book. Reading REALLY interesting book all about Nietszche.

9.45 am: Re-read last 4 pages of really interesting book all about Nietszche because absolutely none of it has gone in.

… and so on. You get the picture.

LONDON

This morning:

7 am: Get up.

7.30 am: Wake daughter up – watch has died so it’s too late and she freaks out because she’s got exams

7.40 am: Breakfast nightmare. Nobody wants what I’ve got.

8.00 am: Ready to drive daughter to school but 8 year old wakes up and insists on coming so daughter highly stressed as we wait for him to put a t-shirt and pair of pants and there is a general low level mumble of abuse between the two of them that I try to avoid but occasionally hear statements like “penis breath”. Son gets in car saying “please don’t break down mum, I can’t let any of my friends see me like this on the side of the road”.

8.10 am: Daughter freaking out as late and we are wedged in a road that is blocked by lorry. Reverse dangerously down little road and on to main road as daughter writes long letter to her teacher about her incompetent mother that I have agreed to sign explaining why she’s late again.

8.30 am: Arrive back and leap out of my skin because there’s a large bloke in my kitchen who I almost failed to recognise as teenage son as a) he was up before midday and b) he was in his school uniform. “I’ve got to take all my books back today, can you drive me?” he asks. “Yes, but why is your uniform all ripped and WHAT IS THAT IN YOUR EAR?”. He looks puzzled and then jumps up “OH SHIT. I forgot, a girl pierced my ear last night with her big flower earring”. So before I drive him to school, I have to remove huge flower earring and as I extract it from his ear blood trickles down his neck and I have to apply disinfectant and give him yet another boring lecture that he won’t have been listening to.

8.45 am: Walk 8 year old son to school

9.00 am: Get home and get back in car to drive teenage son to school

9.30 am: Arrive back home to clear up major breakfast mess and to start rest of day.