Welcome home Father!

Today is the very day Father is released from hospital, hence why I've taken a day off. At 10am we arrived and by 11am Father was sitting in the back of a taxi with Mother whilst I was riding in the passenger seat next to the strangely bearded driver.

Mother prepared a lovely lunch when we returned, it consisted of Shipham's fish paste sandwiches, mini sausage rolls, cornish pasties, skips and Cadbury's mini rolls. As it was a special occasion she'd purchased a bottle of lambrini bianco to celebrate Father's homecoming which we both consumed with gusto, although Father had to add considerable amounts of lemonade to the wine in order not to interfere with his medication.

After lunch Father went for a sleep in his new room. Mother asked her friend Painter Dan to decorate it and I must say that it looks a treat - the arrows on the wallpaper really give it a homely feel and the linoleum is a great idea for dealing with any spillages. Strangely she's also had a lock fitted, which I queried but she said that Father was 'wont to wander' and this was the safest option.

Oh well, I must get back to dusting the garage this afternoon. The sheer amount of spider's webs have been worrying me for weeks. I'm back at work tomorrow and Saturday heralds my initial meeting with Mr A's fabled Mother....

Sunday

This week hasn't been a good one, firstly Mother made me return all of the goods I purchased on Tuesday, stating I was a 'wastrel'. Sbe then sat me in front of her Microsoft Excel budgetting programme and instructed me to learn the fundamentals by next weekend.

Unfortunately that may not be possible as I'm meeting Mr A's mother next Saturday. I can't say that I'm really looking forward to it, but c'est la vie as the French say.

Father is doing well and may be released in the next couple of weeks. Mother has been having a fair amount of work done on the house in his absence. Today she employed someone to soundproof the shed, which was a bit strange.

Well, I've baked bread this afternoon. I must see if it's doubled in size. Sometimes I think dough is the only thing I'll ever make rise....

Stress is turning me into a shopaholic

Father update: according to Mother, he's doing really well and will probably be released from hospital in the near future. He's asking her to go to Marks and Spencer and buy him a pair of summer slacks for him to wear whilst convalescing, which can only be a good thing!

I'm sure the recent stress is driving me around the bend. Firstly, I just wasn't myself today, I snapped at my colleague Matty and ribbed him mercilessly about his turn ups. I also suprised Mr A with a bottle of wine and two plastic glasses at lunchtime when we ventured to a sunny St James's Park. The wine was potent; the sun was hot which made me feel rather odd. We took a turn around the lake and I grabbed Mr A and kissed him passionately by the wartime kitchen garden tableau, which surprised him somewhat, but he didn’t complain too loudly!

Back in the office I decided to clean out my desk drawer by hurling all of my information management manuals into the paper recycling and re-arranged my stationery in my pencil palace. Mr A bought me a strong coffee at 2:30pm, which was nice of him!

This evening I decided to throw caution to the wind and go on a shopping spree to the west end. I went a bit crazy and bought a new jersey jacket from Next (£38), a black leather bag from Jones the Bootmaker (£120) and a pair of silver Mayari Birkenstocks (£49!) To top it off, I went to McDonalds where I consumed a huge chocolate milkshake, came home, logged on and spent more money online – a Boden Bag if you please!

I’m locking up my credit card and am going to bed now. Mother will go mad when she finds out as she always goes through my monthly accounts with a fine toothcomb to ensure that I’m not wasting my salary on ‘fripperies’ – what would she say?

The awful truth

The events of last Tuesday have left the whole of the Weaver family in shock. Father had suffered a minor heart attack whilst attending, what I can only describe as 'an orgy of filth and decadence'. His argument was that he had an ongoing back problem since falling off a pedalo in Great Yarmouth in 1987 and the NHS had failed him, hence he'd been attending Marilyn's Massage Parlour for stilletto based acupuncture. Mother's a tolerant woman, but it's more than she can stand.

Father's still in hospital but she's busy turning the smallest bedroom into a place where he can recuperate. I've moved the large computer into the dining room and we've purchased some lovely nets for privacy. Mother was too distraught to visit Father today and decided to watch pre-recorded editions of the QVC Birkenstock shows instead so I went alone. He looked old, tired and sad in his winceyette pyjamas (with a drawstring waist, anything else just falls down according to Mother). It was a lovely day but Father just stared out of the window in despair. "What on earth must she think of me?" was his refrain, but I couldn't answer truthfully. Time is a great healer so they say, but will it be enough for Mother and Father's fractured marriage?

Shocked to the core

I’m sorry if I haven’t written a great deal on my blog during the last few days, but things have been a bit crazy. Father’s absences from the home continue to mystify Mother and it makes the whole atmosphere rather poisonous to say the least.

I can report that I took a day’s annual leave yesterday so that Mother and could bond over a lovely coach trip to sunny Eastbourne. We boarded our luxury Setra triple axel coach outside the library and journeyed in comfort to the south coast. We brought a Tupperware container full of hard boiled eggs and were able to eat them in the comfort of the cafeteria at the motorway services. A man wearing a nylon tracksuit tried to befriend us whilst we were strolling along the promenade, the strange thing is that he was one of the coach party. He very soon realised that when Mother and I say ‘no’ that we really mean it and the next thing we saw was him trying to build a sandcastle using a plastic trowel and a chipped mug.

We went home where I wrote the first draft of this post. At 9pm two police officers turned up at the door. I’m too upset to continue writing at this present, but sufficed to say that these are the bleakest days the Weaver household has ever had to contend with since my paternal Great-grandfather tried to avoid conscription by sailing out onto the Solent on a makeshift raft. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful in his quest as they captured him and he later faced a firing squad.

Pre election fun

I'm confined by the Civil Service Code, so I can't say a great deal. Sufficed to say if a wider audience knew of my plans to revolutionise the world of electronic filing then they'd be rather excited, but I'm electronically redacting myself as I type.

Myself and Mr A went shopping in the West End this afternoon for our respective summer wardrobes. Mr A decided to purchase two pairs of chinos in a size 38/32 from Marks and Spencer. He bought me a new stripey cardigan and a floaty scarf, both of which I absolutely adore.

To round off the evening we went for a meal in Pizza Hut. I feel that we bonded over the Farmhouse Supreme and when he put his hand in mine and told me how much he cared. His mother's coming to visit next weekend from Guildford and he wants me to meet her. I'm a little scared to be honest, from the picture he showed me of his graduation she closely resembled Clarissa Dickson-Wright and was sporting a pair of enormous walking boots and a jumper decorated by large yellow teddy bears. I'm quaking in my ballet flats already.

Easter in Reculver

Mother, Father and I piled into the Mondeo estate on Friday and headed towards Herne Bay. Now we're huge fans of the place as we've a static caravan at nearby Reculver (home of the Roman fort which was originally 12 miles inland coastal fact fans!) Unfortunately the clientele of the caravan park has gone downhill in recent years and it's full of what Mother calls 'Feralchavs'. Anyway, our caravan is plush and cosy and we've just invested in a new chemical toilet so all's well on that front.

I had lunch with Mr A on Thursday afternoon where he asked if he could pop down for a day and join us and I thought 'why not?' so threw caution to the wind and invited him. Father picked him up from the station at 12pm on Saturday and we decided to splash out on a pub lunch at the King Elthelbert public house as we'd heard good things about the mixed grill. Mr A charmed Mother and Father by intervening when a group of youths were trying to rip the aerial off of the Mondeo, which impressed the former more than the latter.

After lunch Mr A and I decided to walk along the cliff, it was very windy but he'd brought along a spare balaclava helmet for myself, which was rather sweet of him. We stopped on a bench for a rest and shared the flask of coffee which Mother had thoughtfully packed and a pack of six hot cross buns. Mr A declared that he was "getting dangerously fond of me" and tried to kiss me, unfortunately this coincided with a seagull trying to peck the remnants of his currant bun from his hands, failing to do so and biting his thigh instead. I'll say this for Mr A, he didn't complain, but we hobbled back to the caravan for an application of Savlon and a plaster.

The day concluded with a lovely dinner of Ginster's steak slices and chips from the local fish and chip shop - Mr A even decided to choose a side order of mushy peas! Prior to catching his train Mr A and I we dropped off on the Herne Bay seafront and decided to spend an hour playing Flipper Winner (a 2p arcade game which includes mechanical pushers and the facilitity to flip a coin.) He was rather good and made his £2.26 last longer than mine!

As I waved him off on the train I smiled, it had been a good day.