The photograph has literally no relation to the words on the page. It is simply here to offset the three tales of woe that have beset me in the past twenty four hours. Before I catalogue them, I should explain that I have not been with it for much of this week. Marc was given notice at the beginning of the month, and his last working day is today. There is currently no other job in the offing (he is a self employed contracts engineer) and as you can imagine, it's a rather unpleasant place to be.
Although he has been very upbeat about it all, I confess I have been fretting. Fretting about the obvious. Bills, mortgage payments and the like. But (and I am a little ashamed to admit this) fretting about the not so obvious. The longed for house move, the potential loss of financial security and all of the stuff that I have gotten used to over the past couple of years. Spoilt madam, that's me. Marc works away, so that me and the boys can live here. He makes all the sacrifice, and I make very little when it comes down to it. I don't live out of a suitcase during the week. I can see the children every day. I live and waft about in my own ridiculous world. A world that is pretty cool actually, punctuated by short blasts of stress. Usually at bedtime or the five minutes before Alfie leaves for school. Teeny tiny compared to the demands of a high pressured job, and only a generic motel bedroom to look forward to at the end of the day.
So picture me fretting. Going about my daily life. But fretting. Distracted. Not thinking or concentrating properly. And something has happened to me as a consequence of that. So here it is. My confession. OK. Deep breath.......
"I backed the car into a wall because another stupid driver wouldn't back up when he should, so I do and I got all flustered because I was late taking Sam to college and my nephew to the Orthodontist and Olly was bleating in the back of the car and wham! Oh FFS!!!! Marc is going to be mad when he sees it, and I know that Olly will drop me in it it anyway because that's what kids do to you isn't it? Grass you up. And I was so mad and upset when it happened. I got out to look at the damage. I kicked the tyre. I swore. And I mean I really swore. The air was blue by the time I was finished. I shook my fist to the heavens. Why I don't know. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. And as I drove the boys to their various destinations, I cried. Big fat feeling sorry for myself tears. Tears of frustration (I'm such a crap driver). Tears of worry (what on earth will Marc say). Tears for tears sake. I just wanted a hug and a huge piece of cake and a latte and a don't worry. It will all be okay. It's just a car. No-one got hurt."
Do you think that it's just possible that if Marc reads this at Exeter services, he may not be so mad at his ridiculous wife? Sorry lovely boy. It was an accident. Yes I know, another one. But I never mean to bash the car. Look at the pretty picture above. Feel it's calming influence. Take a deep breath. And know that I love you. And I shall make it up to you........
Have a great weekend everyone.
(Oh and I also set fire to my gilet while I was cooking tea last night. And I broke two plates and a mug this week. Sorry. Again).