July 27, 2012 by kitcac
I went to the pub today with the olds. Took J-Wop with me. I looked so classy, in the pub with a baby. Drinking pints.
In my defence, I wasn’t wearing sportswear of any kind.
I’d brushed my hair. I had on a nice-ish top and some jeans. They might have had a small amount of sick on them, but it wasn’t visible to the naked eye.
So a lull came in the conversation and to fill it I piped up “I’ve started a blog!”. Cue looks of confusion. Explained that I wasn’t just putting more stuff on facebook and that this was entirely separate.
I said that its about the peculiar things that happen to me, like finding myself ballroom dancing on my own in the middle of the day, or accidentally insulting Alanis Morrisette to her face (as you do).
“You know Mum, just stuff about what happens during my day.”
My mum’s response was her usual no-holds barred sort of reply. “What on earth would possess people to want to read about THAT?”
My dad was sitting there, quietly taking it all in. Eventually he said “Maybe before you spend time blogging, you might want to do some washing up”. Fair point.
The topic of conversation then changed, we ended up talking about houses and stuff. More particularly whether you’d let someone roam about your house unaccompanied like they do on those daytime TV programmes. For the record, I wouldn’t.
And if anyone wants to surprise me by making over a room with TV cameras there to record my reaction, just don’t. Mind your own business.
In conclusion, the chat about houses ended up with my dad telling us that how he knows someone (not him, I stress, not him) who went viewing a house and ended up having sex in a wardrobe.
I didn’t (and still don’t) know what to say about that. Its certainly not something I want to ask any further questions about. Ever.