The Week Ahead

Read all about this creepy sculpture here

Here’s what’s on my calendar for this week:

Monday: Clean the windows; replace nets.

It has to go on my calendar or I simply won’t do it.  If it’s written down, it’s effectively an order given by me to me and I’m scary when I’m annoyed so I have to do it.

Tuesday: Shop for and visit (via bus) friend housebound with broken foot.

She makes the best cheesecakes in the world; I daren’t neglect her.

Wednesday: Day out with friend.

We’re going to Lyme Hall, where THE Pride & Prejudice was filmed.  Expect the lake to fill up with my drool.

Thursday: A.M.: Deliver a writing workshop for charity.

Of course it’s for charity: who in their right mind would pay me?

Thursday: P.M.: Choir

Those cats won’t imitate themselves.

Friday & Saturday are free.

So far.  I need to put in some time on my poetry collection as I’m now a month behind, so maybe I’ll schedule that (Monday refers).

Sunday: Stockport Writers.

I’m chairing.  Hm.  Maybe I can get them to write about their interesting week…

Every Day: Ten minute writing exercise as soon as I wake up.

An October challenge.  This morning’s scribbling made absolutely no sense (what I could read of it).  I may have to change it to ‘Ten minute writing exercise as soon as I’ve had my first cup of tea and washed my face and woken up a bit’.

Every Day: Cook, clean, walk the dogs, nag the Hub.

Yawn.

Today: Think up lame blog post so readers will feel less ignored.

Using my diary to tell you why I’m too busy to blog is inspired, I think.  Expect more of the same.

Hello?

Where did everyone go…?

Diary Of A Fifty-Year Old (2)

11:03

wobble jelly wobble (Photo credit: bluebakeblog)

Weighed myself.

Jumped out in front of the Hub in my birthday suit, giving him the fright of his life.

Correction: Jumped out in front of the Hub in my birthday suit with no jellywobbles, giving him the fright of his life.

Shouted, Tah-dah!  64kilos!  I’ve lost ten kilos! You have to buy me two writing magazines!

Took a shower.

Hub took a cold shower (it’s my birthday; not his).

 

Diary Of A Fifty-Year Old (1)

50–50 (game show) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In case I haven’t mentioned it, today is my birthday.  Yes, fifty years ago today, my Mother stood up and said to my Dad, ‘I don’t remember coughing,’ and three hours later I was born.

The celebrations started last night (if we don’t count the last three months), when Spud came into my room just after midnight to wish me a happy birthday. He’s so sweet.  But really…awake so late on a school night?  I’ll have to have words with that boy.

06:30

Spud insisted I have a lie-in today (I deserve one every fifty years) but old habits die hard and I was awake before him.  I crossed my legs as long as I could (not long at all, as it happened; this old bladder is just like my mother’s in pregnancy) and then sneaked to the bathroom before he awoke.

I had to lie there for thirty minutes while he got up, showered, dressed, blah-blah-blah…I think he forgot it was my birthday because he just left me there, sleeping (he thought).

When I heard him coming with my tea, I hid under the covers:

Spud [stage whisper]: Wake up, Mum.

Me: [stage yell, muffled]: Go away!

[Puzzled pause]

Spud [indoor voice]: Wake up, Mum, it’s your birthday.  Happy birthday!

Me: [under the quilt voice]: Go away!  I don’t want to be fifty!  I’m not fifty until I get up.  I’m not getting up.

Spud [Panicked – Mum’s having a mid-life crisis]: Umm..

Me [Gleeful]: Heeheeheeheeheehee…

I had first considered moving round so he found my feet on the pillow but then I thought, Nah, I’m fifty now; time to grow up.  Besides, these old bones would have taken too long to make the move.

07:20

Opened my cards.  I decided yesterday to save the presents until this afternoon, when Tory Boy arrives.

07:30

The Hub suggested I open just one present, because everyone should open a present on their birthday morning; I chose Viv’s, whose interesting M&S parcel has been sitting there, tormenting me for the past two weeks.

07:31

Opened the rest of my presents.

If Tory Boy wants to be part of this family, he’d better move back to Stockport.

08:00

Saw Spud off to school (late).

Fed the dogs: Toby’s breakfast waits for no fifty-year old.

Read all of my birthday messages via email, Facebook, text, etc.  Thank you, all!

08:25

Got my breakfast.  Had a packet of crisps for pudding, to celebrate (diets are forbidden on birthdays).

08: 50

Stopped eating long enough to answer a couple of calls, wishing me a happy birthday.

09:10

Played Spider Solitaire on my computer.  Just because it’s my birthday.

And because it’s my birthday, I opted not to feel guilty about wasting time.

Happy birthday, me!

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Expect a lot of posts today; or, as the media puts it when there are important events taking place, Look out for live updates throughout the day.