Day of guilt. Took Boy 15 to the station for a 5 hour train journey to Lockerbie to go to a party. As I gave him a goodbye hug his three female companions arrived with picnics. I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He laughed and said 'It's fine'. They looked at me as if I was thick and inadequate and handed him his picnic.
Back just in time to give Father in Law lunch and the shoddily wrapped presents to go to Scotland. He parried and gave me the number of a psychiatrist he thinks I'd get on with in return.. This fellow wears three piece pinstripe suits and has a leather sofa.... cool. I think.
Finally drove Girl 13 to Olga the Polga to pick up her dazzle'em Ball Dress for Monday nights do at the Ministry of Sound. Mentally added up the cost and tried to erase the number just above the two black lines. Back in the car she asked 'What do you think I should wear for the Wild Rock party tomorrow?' Oh God. I morphed straight back into Mrs Rochester. By the time we got home she was feigning sleep just to try and stop me ranting. This is not brilliant, it's not even good.