120 school hours, 68 work hours, 6 football training sessions, 3 football matches and a swimming lesson – a week – I’m not sure we all really knew each other anymore. They talk about ‘passing ships in the night’ but we’d become more like satellites zooming light years apart in space. So, on 23rd March 2020, when Boris told us all to spend the foreseeable with each other, a collision of satellites was only a matter of time.
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Before the sun rose on cold, often wet, Sunday mornings my mum and I would leave our seafront flat in Brighton (me in my buggy) and head to the station for the weekly car boot sale. Before I could even walk I bore witness to my market-trader mum bartering, haggling and sniffing out the treasures that furnished our home. To say second-hand treasure hunting is in my DNA would be an understatement, it’s my way of life.
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I took a holiday this weekend; it wasn’t planned, I didn’t discuss it with anyone and it was much needed. I took a holiday from confrontation – I allowed Hugo to do what he liked, when he liked and with whom he liked (he was safe as his judgement is pretty sound – I haven’t lost my mind!) to avoid backlash, arguments and me feeling like the bad guy.
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If you’re into Festivals and all they entail – this is in no way ‘mud slinging’ at your life choices and how you spend your spare time and hard earned cash. Call me ‘Fanny McFuck-Off Festivals’, but I bloody hate the things.
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Hi, I’m Jess and I want more sleep! In fact, I’ve always wanted more sleep and just as I got to an age where my weekend mornings were mine, as an adult – no more teen weekend job, no more “do you know what time it is?” from mum and with hedonistic nights/ghastly hangovers behind me – I went and threw small people into the mix and out the window went all my sweet, slumbering dreams.
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