There is something very exhausting about being in trouble, I'd forgotten. But recently I've discovered that it's even more wearing and upsetting to be the Mother of Captain Cock-up. You can see the blunders lumbering over the hill, but somehow you are powerless to stop them. Poor Mum - no wonder she never really liked me.
I have done nothing but field calls, reassure, be shouted at, told white lies, rung people and discovered facts, repaid cash, sent parcels of clothes back to the lenders and apologised for the last 48 hours. I've dispatched bunches of flowers left right and centre, and all I suspect to precious little effect. I wasn't even the one having the fun.
Boy 16 on the other hand has gently strummed along, new strings installed.
This brings us to the lefty loosie, righty tighty thing. I'd never heard that one and thought he was muttering about pants. Tighty whities were what we used to call Jockey Y fronts when he was small, and needed serious, zero fall-out factor pants for junior rugby. Today, I couldn't understand what he was on about and thought he'd gone mental. When we finally sorted out the mutterings, I swapped the knowledge for bLue to Left, bRown to Right. Between us now we can re-string a guitar, switch off a valve and change a plug. What a team. (Just wait till I try and teach him about buoys and night time navigation... green to green, or maybe not, it sounds a bit dodge put like that).
Girl 12 is doing my nut in. Anyone would think I was leaving the building forever not just taking a trip. After 17 years of child labour a girl (45) should be able to wander off into the wilderness for a bit and restore her equilibrium. And now they are talking about what they think I will leave for them to eat in the freezer and who is in charge of the chickens and who the dog. Wait til they get to grips with laundry, logs and lunch. Talk about a guilt trip.
Lets hope I made a mistake and sent myself all the flowers. Which reminds me, it was darling's birthday, and I forgot. Someone light the pyre now... I'll just leap on. Oh and the recyclers haven't been and if they don't damn well turn up tomorrow I'm loading the whole lot into the car and taking it around to the Council Offices and flytipping it under the inevitable car park cctv cameras. It's been a month now and those gd tourists are getting on my tits. Eighth wonder, my arse.