Uni girl came home last weekend for a friends birthday party on Saturday night. TP met her at Liverpool St station after work, her with broken 4 week old laptop and as much washing as she could carry, in tow. They caught the last commuter coach, 6.30pm and arrived home at 8.30pm. I had been at work all day but had prepared the veg at 6am and got the stew on ready for their arrival as I felt the need to cook her a decent hot meal and served it with her favourite Tiger Bread. At 10pm she headed off for bed and all day Saturday, worked in my Brothers shop to fund her night out. After work she called in, grabbed some clothes and headed out informing me she would be staying at her Dads after the party. Sunday morning she came home at 10am to get packed with the clean washing and ironing I had done and said her Dad was picking her up at 12 to drive her back to Uni. It sure felt like a flying visit but he didn’t want to leave any later as it is a four hour round trip and they had to drop the broken laptop into Curry’s on the way.
She had a hospital appointment on Wednesday, in London and upon checking online it appears that you can get train tickets much cheaper but you need the debit card the purchase was made with, to collect the ticket. I remembered that I had a pre-load card and trotted off up the co-op to put some money on it and came back and got the ticket. £26 return, Colchester to London which would have been over £40 if she had bought it, on the day at the station. We sorted out times for meeting on Wednesday at Liverpool Street.
We met up fine, made our way to the hospital by tube and when we got in the clinic, was greeted with a sign saying that appointments were running an hour and a half late! When she eventually got seen (at 5pm) the Registrar asked why we were there, as at the last appointment we had been told to wait for a letter for an operation which the consultant said would be scheduled for her Xmas break between 18 Dec and 18 Jan and I expressed it be after Xmas, otherwise she may not be able to eat. On a CT scan they have found extra bone on the side of her jaw which has been locked for three years and they intend to shave this off. She has had two failed operations in the past but just to try and get the jaw open. Neither he nor us had a clue why we had been sent this appointment.
So basically, it was all a complete waste of time and huge amounts of money in fares. I took her back to Liverpool St and then couldn’t get her on the train as we had bought an off peak ticket and had to pay another £20 to get her onboard – grrrr.
Yesterday her operation appointment arrived for the 15th December – fucking idiots! with a pre assessment appointment for 30th November! Well they can go fuck themselves, I shall be having a complete fit on the phone tomorrow, incompetent bastards! and you guessed it, soft touch that Iam, gave her my laptop to go back with and I am left with the slow piece of shit I am currently typing on, which keeps missing out letters because the keyboard is shit aswell!
At work on Wednesday, N was having a conversation with her husband which sounded exactly the same as my conversations with TP. It was obvious he was asking her loads of questions and getting one word answers in return. When she came off the phone I told her that my conversations with TP sounded similar and she said all he does is ask questions. At this stage TP had already rung me twice and it wasn’t even lunchtime but lets take a normal day, usually when I am at home and the phone will ring just after 9am when I get back from school and will go something like this:-
TP: What took you so long? where were you? Me: In the kitchen getting the washing out of the machine. TP: Oh. What are you up to today? Me: Same as usual, housework, washing et. TP: Don’t forget to go round the Post Office and pay the phone bill . Me: I won’t. TP: Did little Man get off to school OK? Me: Yes. TP: and C? Me: Yes. TP: Oh right, um um I was gonna say something, what was it?………at this point I am usually thinking Fuck off and let me get on will you, you haven’t got anything of interest to say so why waste my time!
Now N said that her husband “ums” and “ah’s” almost as if he is thinking of something else to ask, another question and instead of getting off the phone he will keep her on the line whilst he racks his brains for another question. BINGO! It is official our husbands are the same as TP does that too. In fact I wonder if all husbands are the same but some may work in areas where they do not have access to a phone i.e. a factory maybe? N mentioned the word “control freak” when we discussed the phone call situations, but I had never thought of it like that. I have always called TP a control freak but that is more because everything has to be done his way, or no way at all and he always tells people what to do and if you have dealt with a matter without first getting his advice, you can guarantee you won’t have said or done the right thing and a row will no doubt ensue.
When phoning Uni girl last night, as I do everynight since she went 4 weeks ago, I realised that my conversations with her actually consist of me asking a load of questions and usually the same ones. Are you OK? did you have any lectures today? have you spent any money? what are you doing now? are you going out tonight? what have you eaten?
So if N thinks our husbands calls and questions make them Control Freaks do my phone calls to Uni girl mean that I am a controlling mother? or just over anxious for her welfare? Obviously I think it is because I care and not because I want to be an annoying question asking twat!
One of my aquaintances/friends I have known for about 11 years. She is originally from London, but when she moved here, she continued to work in the City and we used to commute on the coach together. We used to get on and off at the same bus stop as she lived just around the corner to me. As time passed, I left work to have my now nearly 9 year old Son and a year later she had her first child. When my little man was a toddler I used to help out at a mates shop occassionally and my ex travelling companion always used to pop in and see me, whilst we would while away an hour putting the world to rights and she would ask all kinds of advice about childcare in general, nurserys, potential schools etc.
Eventually she decided to send her eldest to the same school my son attends so for the past 3 years we have seen each other every day. She has popped round in the holidays to pick up second hand uniform (I look after that for the school) and had a cuppa. I wouldn’t say we have ever lived in each others pockets but I certainly class her as a friend. She is also friendly with another friend of mine, who I know from another walk of life and she only knows from school, for purposes of this post we will call commuter friend C and the other friend M. I had to pop into M’s shop today to pick something up and friend C was in there. Now in the past I have done certain treatments ,that I do for a living on C and when I saw her today in M’s shop it was obvious that she had been somewhere else to have said treatment done. I said “Have you had your …..done?”, “yeah” she said, looking slightly sheepish. “Why didn’t you come to me?” I asked. “Well I looked at F and Mrs P’s down the school and thought I liked the look of theirs so thought I would go where they go and give them a try”. I could see that M looked extremely embarrassed as she tried to pretend nothing was going on, whilst munching on a Gregg’s sandwich. “They were a really good price” said C to which I responded “so were mine with the mates rates I gave you” and with that she turned away to look at something in the shop and I just said “right I’m off to work, see you girls later”.
I got outside and I was really upset, shell shocked even. I honestly felt as though it was a real kick in the teeth that she had gone elsewhere for her treatment. When I think about how I have put myself out for her on occassions in the past concerning said treatments by working late to accomodate her and also having her round the house to fit her in on days I wasn’t working if she wanted something doing. I think I also felt awful because she has obviously asked F and Mrs P down the school about theirs, they both know that I carry out this treatment and that she is my friend, so how does that make me look? What about when she went to the new person, did they ask if she had had this procedure before and did she say yes and that it was with me, which would make it look like my work is not good enough when I have enough regular customers to know that it is?
As the afternoon went on I could still feel the pent up hurt and anger, my cheeks were actually on fire, I couldn’t believe it, my skin was red hot! I did no more at half past four, I rang M. I said “look I am really sorry to ring but I can’t help but feel hurt and upset by C going somewhere else for her treatment and I don’t want to drag you into this, but I just needed to talk to someone about it” . “Oh thats OK, I know its a loyalty thing, its like with the shop when other people buy clothes from somewhere else”. “I know what you mean but its a bit different with clothes, if someone wants a red dress and you haven’t got one, they go elsewhere and if they go to a shopping centre, they aren’t not going to not buy something out of loyalty to you” I replied. “No I suppose not, I was so embarrassed when you realised” she said. “Yes I could tell, did C say anything when I left?” I asked. “No nothing, she just got on with opening her birthday cards, look love, I’ve got to go, I’ve got a customer”.
So there I was, confused, hurt and angry with no answers. Do I ignore her or just rise above it, its a hard one isn’t it? and makes a change for me to be pissed off by someone other than “The Pig”.
As you may have gathered, one of the problems in “The Pig” and mine’s relationship, is the fact that sometimes I don’t feel as though I have done anything wrong to upset him, unyet he goes off “at a tangent”, for no apparent, or a very silly reason. Take Friday for instance.
I was at home all day, I hadn’t felt great the night before, which he knew, so didn’t do much (nothing new there then!). He rang late afternoon, spoke to Little Man, and asked via him, what we were having for Dinner. I said I would probably get Daughter 2 to pick up something from the Chip Shop on her way home from Town and Little Man relayed this information along with the question, did he want some. The answer came back as a No, he didn’t want reheated Chips, but may want an Indian. That was fine, I was happy to order an Indian for roughly the time of his arrival.
Once he had began his commute home, he rang me. TP – what did you have for Dinner in the end? Me – Fish and Chips. TP – Fish and Chips, WTF? you make me fucking die you do. Then he promptly hung up and I was left holding my mobile, feeling extremely bemused for a minute or two. I then began to text the following:- Little Man said you wanted an Indian, I can’t c why you have got the hump, how many nice pub lunches have you had this week? If you want an Indian, let me know what you want and I will order it.
As I pressed send, I got one come through from him which said the following:- You make me fucking die. You were allegedly ill earlier and now you can eat fish and chips. You are a waste of time. Do not and I repeat do not, ring or text me, I will sort myself out when I get in, again.
Oops – too late, our text must have passed like ships in the night, but I mean honestly what the fuck bought that on because I am buggared if I know! This is what I mean by treading on Eggshells. Before he found out what we had eaten, he had been to Sainsburys and bought Brie and Pate and Crackers and not only that, we had told him in the afternoon what we were having, it was no big surprise. How did it become an issue? How many evenings do I sit and listen to detailed descriptions of what he has had for lunch, some delicious meal in a desirable location after I have just had fish fingers and oven chips with the kids. I don’t “cop one” and start shouting at him do I? I may well be jealous but am always interested and here am I, unable to even get my dinner from the local Chipie!
At about 7.15pm, I got Little Man to ring him to enquire if he wanted an Indian ordered, but the response was negative and 45 minutes later he came in with the hump and I was once again, sent to Coventry. At 9pm I asked for him to switch over to Strictly Come Dancing, but he said they were watching Derren Brown, so I took the Laptop with me and went upstairs to watch the rest of it (how dare they clash it for half an hour with Corrie).
Saturday morning, still very strained and at lunchtime I went to work. When I got home, just after 6pm, there was a dinner on the worktop, I asked if it was mine, he said if I wanted it, which of course I did. The meal was a hotpotch of leftovers mixed with other things. There were leftover Jacket Spuds which he had taken the filling out of, mixed with something or other, returned to skins and put back in oven, delicious. Then there was stir fry veg and noodles – the best I have ever eaten (normally hate this kind of thing) and he had also put some meatballs in, not from a tin but those swedish ones you get from the meat counters which are currently 99p on offer in Sainsburys. I praised his cooking skills and he told me that the girls (who had already gone out when I got home) had eaten all of theirs aswell. Strictly Come Dancing which was on again, also helped to open up the lines of communication as he began to comment on the dances and the dancers.
I realised that the washing was still on the line, he hadn’t got it in, but I said nothing and went and got it. I was dissapointed that on such a fine day, the fact it was left out, meant that it was very damp, after the sun had shone all day, but did I have a hissy fit about it? No. There may be the odd occassion when I would have had a little moan, but I dont shout and scream about trival things, nor do I start trouble for the sake of it, it really is not in my nature. Anything for a quiet life, me.
So I can sit back today and wonder what was it all about, the problem over my fish and chip supper. Truth is I will never know. Is it just a reason to have a go at me, a verbal punch bag for his angst which breeds immense resentment in me.
I received a text message at teatime yesterday saying “having a swift one with the boys”, him have a swift one, he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. A few beers is out of the question, any kind of alcoholic consumption results in a night away from home and the hangover from hell, he just doesn’t know when to stop.
Teatime today, a text message saying “on Coach, eta 8pm”, I didn’t bother with a response. At 8.20pm, “The Pig”arrives, half cut. Yes you got it, 3 parts to the wind. How could he. I was and am, really pissed myself but in a different way of course.
Saturday night, we had the pleasure of daughter 1’s company as boyf was at the pub watching the footie. When she left to pick him up, she never mentioned that she was coming back, with him in tow, pissed up! “The Pig” and I were not very happy but we didn’t say anything although it was discussed at length on Sunday morning. I guess the daughter probably didn’t realise when she picked him up, just how bad he was, but once here and witnessing his animated conversation it all became quite embarrassing. It was a one off, I am sure, and on that basis, we said nothing and here I am tonight in the company of another drunk, twice in one week, oh lucky me – NOT. This time it is far worse because a) it is my husband and b) my children have had to see him. I don’t know how much he has drunk or what time he started. According to him, he left work at 4pm which would mean just over 2 hours of slugging back the Vino, but to me he looks like someone who has spent the afternoon in the pub after an extended City Luncheon, which better not be the case as he is being paid by the bloody hour! So I am trying to keep the peace as when pissed “The Pig” is either a) a pussycat or b) an aggressive bastard and I am taking no chances!
According to the News on GMTV this morning, 8% of couples in their 40’s and 50’s sleep in separate rooms, but research shows that lack of sleep whether it be due to your partners snoring, fidgeting, getting up to go to the loo, putting the light on, or getting up for work early, is often the cause of Divorce and some serious health problems such as heart disease and stroke. Apparently, to achieve a long and happy marriage more couples should consider sleeping in different rooms. From my own experience, this is not ideal. I took to the spare room a while back and then the other week, decided to creep back into the martial bed where I slept soundly for a few hours, until “The Pig” got up for work and put the bloody light on at 5.30am and starting dropping coat hangers on a wooden floor! Now do please bear in mind that this was during the school holidays, so I was not happy and stomped back off to the spare room to grab an extra hour. From a personal point of view, I don’t think that sleeping apart can be good for a marriage, because all bodily contact and intimacy becomes obsolete. Take off to the spare room if one of you is ill or has to get up early etc so OK in the short term, but on the whole I don’t recommend it. It also needs to be taken into consideration the fact that there can be no making up after a row, which of course, happens frequently in the MWF household! It is easier for a man to say sorry when he fancies a bit of romance between the sheets and us women, being the suckers that we are, would usually accept an apology at this time and then any previous hostility can be forgotten, we can both move on and get up for work whistling the next morning. So don’t be tempted to fall into the trap I have, where it feels difficult to go back to sleep in your own room, if you have a marriage worth saving……..
I awoke this morning, in the spare room, as his lordship put the hallway light on. Admittedly it as just as my alarm was going off at 6am anyway, but felt it was unneccessary and may not only affect me, as Little Man’s door was ajar aswell. I am sure he could see what he was doing as it was pretty light by then anyway. He then said rather too loudly “This is a fucking joke” as he attempted to put yesterdays work shirt into the washing basket that I had left a basket of ironing on the top of. Naturally, I took no notice and as usual I laid there and thought to myself, here we go, we had an evening without cross words where he was in a fairly good mood and then he is in a strop again. His moods are so difficult to predict and one minute Mr Nice becomes Mr Angry. He could have left the shirt on the floor, it wouldn’t have been a problem on this occasion, bloody hell, he has enough other shit and clothing on the bedroom floor and I would have realised why he had done it, but why put lights on and whinge, rather loudly, when you risk waking up a child who went to bed late because of last nights England football match? Sometimes I really don’t understand how he fails to consider other people in the house, he has no respect for me, that is obvious, but to not consider the sleeping son, he adores……
Once I was up and my eyes were fully focused, I text him to ask what had happened with Derren Browns lottery predictions on Channel 4 last night, as yet I still have no reply and that was three hours ago, so one can only assume that my leaving the ironing on top of the washing basket has put him in a foul mood – again!
Yesterday I was so bloody annoyed with daughter 3 as you know from yesterdays rantings. I did of course feel OK once her room was done and today she went back to school, her first day in sixth form. She has just said to me “Oh Mum, I bought you a peanut Kit Kat chunky today, it is in the fridge as it was a bit melted when I got home but should be OK now” “Ah thank you” I said. She knows these are my favourite but they are difficult to get hold of locally. So now I am on a guilt trip. This afternoon daughter 1 and I were talking about 3 and I was telling her what happened yesterday and 1 said “she is horrible a trouble maker, really evil, I just don’t know where she gets it from”. I thought that was going a bit far and I don’t think the blonde bombshell would be happy if she knew her older sister had said those things. After telling me about the KitKat, it reminded me that last year the Sex and the City Movie was released on DVD on her actual birthday, it was a Monday. She had asked if I was going to buy it straight away but I said that I would wait and put it on my Christmas list. On the Saturday after her 16th, she went out shopping with her friends to buy new clothes with her birthday money. When she came in, she produced from amongst her purchases, the SATC DVD. I was so pleased and proud too, that she had been so thoughtful and I knew there and then, that her 2 older sisters would never have done the same thing, far too selfish and would want to spend the money on themselves. Perhaps she is not that bad after all!
and do you know why? that bloody daughters bedroom again. She goes back to school tomorrow and again, for the last couple of weeks, she has been putting it off and putting it off, going out and doing exactly as she pleases, whilst all I do is hand over cash for new clothes for Six Form and a rather nice Eiffel Tower keyring from Accessorise to save her losing the door key I have only just got cut, as she is so irresponsible it will no doubt be lost before the month is out.
I told her to get her room done and get all of her outfits sorted, afterall, you can’t be the best dressed girl in Year 12 without a bit of styling and forward thinking can you? As it stands you can’t see the clothes because you can’t get to the wardrobe, yet again, because the EU mountain of dirty cups and beakers, uneaten chocolate bars and plates covered with toast crusts, are taking precedence and once again the solid wood floor is hidden from view with a smattering of dirty underwear, pyjamas and unworn outfit choices.
She goes back to school tomorrow and spent the weekend at her Dads and today, out with Daughter 1. She came in at 2.30 and sat there, saying she would do it later, then she went out with Daughter 1, again. She got back at 5 at which point “The Pig” rang to see if the room was done. 10 minutes ago he rang again and said “wait till I get home”, Oh God, here we go. She is using every excuse under the Sun and knows he will have a fit, but I am sure she likes it really, gives her something to cry to her friends about, can’t she ever just do stuff to avoid confrontation? I think she loves the fact that he will have a go at me about it also, just makes me think she doesn’t care about me being dragged into it. She keeps trying to make stupid idiotic conversation with me whilst I am blogging and to be honest, I just want to say “Fuck Off”.
The way I am feeling at the moment means I just want to ring her bloody neck and swear at her, yes really swear. I have said I have a pile of ironing to do but don’t want to do it, Little Man has homework to do but doesn’t want to do it, we all have to do things we don’t want to do, but she just responds with “Oh well”. Talk about try my patience. At 7pm I am going to issue my final warning. At 7pm I am going to do my ironing and I am going to tell her that if “The Pig” starts on her when he gets home, I will not be standing between them, or sticking up for her, nor will she get buggar all out of it me, well at least not till I give her the Juicy Couture handbag and David & Goliath pyjamas I have bought the bloody brat for her birthday on the 22nd.
This post might make you think she is a little “asshole” andyou wouldn’t be far wrong, in need of a clip round the ear, I hear you cry, in fact that applys to all three girls today. Daughter 2 swanned off to her Dads earlier to housesitwhilst he lives it up in Cuba for the next 2 weeks, without a goodbye, see you later – nothing. Arm in a sling from a broken collarbone, she has driven me round the bloody twist these last few days, perhaps someone should tell her that someone invented something called a “Smile”. Then Daughter 1 just swanned in and had a go at me, even though I have a line full of washing out that is her and the boyf’s and another load in the machine, I soon shot her down in flames, bloody cheek, who the hell do they think they are?
Quick Update – this will make you laugh!
At 7pm I went upstairs to do the ironing. About 5 minutes later, daughter 3 went to her room and started tidying up! At about 8pm we had both finished and I was folding up stuff when “The Pig” arrives home. I personally think he was up for a row and when he saw that the bedroom had been sorted, he decided to pick a fight anyway. “Why are these windows open?” “Um, because the bloody house is like an oven” “well shut them”. “Where is Daughter 1?” he asked “I’m going out running now, I’m not waiting for her” so I came back with “she is at that fitness dance class thing, she always goes there on a Monday and then comes up here for a run with you” “No she doesn’t” he said “I don’t know anything about it” “Yes you do” I replied “I have heard her tell you all about it and about the friend she goes with” “Oh well” he said as he put his running gear on. He started going on about his socks, “they were there on the bed” I said, “well there are not there now, where the bloody hell are they?” . He was tossing M&S boxers and hankerchiefs embroidered with his friends initials all over the bed and at this he screamed the biggest scream the world has heard since Jack the Ripper roamed the streets of Whitechapel, and do you know what he had done? stubbed his toe on the bed! I turned aroud to see him hopping round the room, clutching his foot, I just don’t know how I kept a straight face! That’ll teach him, being an asshole for no reason at all, coming in and starting trouble and moaning like he does every bleeding night, “God don’t pay debts with money” my old Nan used to say!
It was a well known fact that The Pig would be out on Thursday night, as it was his best friends 50th Birthday. There was to be a Casino Night with a James Bond Theme in a Pub in the City they frequent. I think they had to wear Bow Ties etc, but as I don’t really give a fuck, I didn’t ask too many questions but there was never any mentin of being out on Friday night as well, although I could probably have laid money on it and being as it was a Casino night, I would have won a few Bob!
I had made it clear on Thursday morning (the last time I saw him) that I had to go to work on Saturday. Saturdays are a big childcare, pain in the ass, as Oldest daughter was working, next one at music festival and next one at Saturday job. MIL goes out with her friend for Breakfast and Shopping at Tesco and I never have my Mum to babysit anymore as feel it is too much for her. You can see why I try to avoid working Saturdays like the Plague, as I just can’t trust that The Pig, won’t go out and stay out, on a Friday night. This week I was so busy at work, I had to make arrangements to do Saturday to enable me to fit all my clients in. At 6.30pm last night whilst with a client, I get a text saying “Out with B and his children”. What a wanker! B’s children are all early twenties, so yet another night in the pub and staying at B’s. To say I was furious was an understatement and between clients last night, I had to ring people and rearrange their appointments.
Ok, I admit I wasn’t sorry at being home today as am completely shattered after two 12 hour days which followed a day out on Wednesday which means, the place is a mess, washing is piling up so that the upstairs hallway resembles the launderette on Eastenders and I have little energy to do anything other than yawn, oh and eat.
He strolled in at lunchtime today, said “Hello” to our son, in stupid version of a 5 year olds voice, pathetic.
“So did you forget that I said I was working today” I asked.
“Yeah” came the response (well it was obvious that was the reply I was going to get, I don’t know why I laid myself wide open for that one).
I then went on ”Even if I had been in a postion where I could have texted you straight back last night, you would still have gone out wouldn’t you?, because you don’t give a fucking crap about anyone else but yourself. Out with your friend and his kids, what about your fucking kid? you useless Tosser”.
Needless to say I didn’t get an answer as he went upstairs to change out of his work suit.
So that was that and then as usual, everything goes back to normal as he comes down and asked if anybody wanted any lunch.
I was typing this post mid afternoon, when he piped up “what are you doing?”, “Typing” I replied, “I know that” said TP, “but typing what?”. “I am typing an email” I lied “hope you are not typing anything about me, on that stupid blog” he said. I failed to answer and quickly clicked on Ebay!
You must understand I don’t get uptight because he goes out, loads of husbands go out, what I get the hump about is that he doesn’t come home, using the excuse that we live so far away and the last train is too early for him. He never goes out locally and that is the problem. A few hours in a local pub with his mates, like normal men, wouldn’t be a problem but he doesn’t do that does he?, the Prick wants the Champagne Charlie, City lifestyle with his single or divorced friends as opposed to the local Working Mens Club where people go with their wives and children.
Moan, Moan, Moan. That is all he does the minute he walks through the door at night. Where is this, where is that, where has so and so gone? why isn’t there any proper food in the fridge? why didn’t you organise dinner for my mum today?
What is he talking about “no proper food in the fridge” what sort of food have I bought, pretend instead of proper? Have I accidently bought some of that plastic food used by kids when they play Shops? He moaned because we had Pizza for dinner even though I explained I only did something quick because I spent all afternoon sorting out and decluttering 2 bedrooms. Never mind last week, on the hotest day of the year, when I was having a cook fest. I asked him if he wanted any supper when he was on his way home and he said no. Now he is telling me he would have had something, had it have been something decent. I have just told him that I would happily do him an Omlette or a Jacket Potato and salad (after all he is supposed to be back on his healthy eating regime) but oh no, far better to make a point of getting a giant bag of Doritos out of the cupboard and to then use a new pot of chicken tikka sandwich filler as a dip? Twat.
Then he starts to critise how much the food shopping bill comes to. I just threw the receipt at him, he has no concept of how much things cost and I class myself as a thrifty shopper who would rather spend money on luxuries than essentials such as food! so what the fuck is he moaning about? It only came to £72, I did break out into a hot sweat incase he noticed Grazia on there though, but I seemed to get away with that! Never mind that he has £200 a week to spend on himself, soon be £2 if this contract comes to an end!
Oh look, he has just walked in from the kitchen with a homemade vegetarian Lasange I made for one of the kids yesterday, as he walks past he moaned again “I bloody well knew she wouldn’t eat this” and in my head I thought “and if I had known you were gonna eat it, I would have fucking spat in it, hope it chokes you, you miserable old bastard”.
