I don’t seem to have much time for this blogging business at the moment. Just as well I haven’t got any readers, otherwise you might all be demanding updates and then I’d really be struggling.

I have just experienced quite a traumatic weekend overall.

Good Things That Happened This Weekend.

I had McDonalds for lunch on Saturday.

Bad Things That Happened This Weekend.

I had McDonalds for lunch on Saturday.

On Friday night I had to attend my oldest son’s football presentation evening with my ex and the kids. He plays in an under 14’s league. I look forward to this annual event with about the same amount of enthusiasm as I could muster for a wisdom tooth operation. Endless tables of unruly boys drown out the drone of each proud manager (always one of the dads), who spends in excess of 20 minutes singing the praises of each and every boy in their team. The room positively oozes testosterone and this year, the combination of raging hormones, alcohol and an incident involving two of the younger boys culminated in a full-on fight between three of the fathers, resulting in one broken nose, one arm that needed plastic surgery and one mouth with four missing teeth (as there was so much blood, only two of them could be found). A fine example of football at it’s best.

On Saturday I had to teach two exercise classes, take my daughter shopping for last minute items for her school trip, look at a house, pick my 6 year old up, wave my daughter off on a very large coach driven by a very small man, go and see a friend who is distraught about her life because she hasn’t got a boyfriend, go and see a friend who is distraught about her dog because it’s just had it’s balls chopped off (owing to humping her Cath Kidston cushions) and now it won’t stop crying, go and see another friend who was upset about her daughter going away and have dinner with another friend who’s husband was pissed at the football.

On Sunday I did the Pink Power Walk, a 26 mile walk in aid of Breakthrough and the Caron Keating Foundation, both breast cancer charities. Gloria Huniford, Caron’s mother was there at the end to thank us all for our efforts and it was then that we were reminded of why we had just put ourselves through such a gruelling challenge. How completely devastating to outlive your own child and to have to watch them suffer. She talked about how much strength she had found in being able to channel her energy into something important and life changing. What are a few blisters and dodgy hips when you think about the bigger picture? She said she believed that Caron’s soul was bigger than death and that death was not the end.

Back at home, with aching bones, blisters and excruciatingly painful bottom muscles (that I didn’t know I had) the bigger picture got smaller by the minute – I had to cook the children their supper, find school uniform and have an argument with my ex. I felt sorry for myself. I wanted somebody to look after me. The argument with my ex lasted an hour.

Sometimes it’s very difficult, doing all this stuff on your own.

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