This, at least, is how I felt about five hours ago when my husband left for ‘hours’ to go to bloody football and leave me all alone, bored, at home, nothing to do. Sounds like I’m an invalid doesn’t it or perhaps a small child incapable of amusing myself and you’d be right if you were thinking the latter because I am almost as bad at entertaining myself as a small child is. Can’t be left alone. Get bored quickly. Not grown up enough to enjoy my own company or grown up enough to make the decision to go out and enjoy the company of others. No! I prefer to get annoyed, moan and shout;’you are always going to football and leaving me here on my own with nothing to do. I’m here all week doing nothing and now I’m stuck here again,’ is something along the lines of how it goes. I’m somewhat of an exaggerator too because my husband works from home so I’m rarely alone, it’s just that weekend days are times than I don’t feel guilty getting him to go out and do something other than work. Gone are the weekends where, hungover, I’d be happy, no grateful, to lie in bed all day watching the latest HBO series on my laptop, episode after episode! Anyway, I bloody well dragged myself out to the place where every grown-up goes to pass the time; to Mummy’s! Along the way I even popped into see my Booba (grandma) to drop her in the leftovers of the plum tarte tatin whose pan had cruelly burnt my husband’s hand (believe me when he picked it up just after I’d brought it out of the oven I felt the pain too. It was horribly upsetting-3 hours in A & E, a superficial wound-dressing later and we were are all ok again). Continue Reading
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Huffington Post blogger and freelance journalist.