Making an entrance

I flew back from Gothenburg last year, arrived in Heathrow, grabbed my hand luggage, speeded through customs, turned the corner just before the bit where everyone waits for loved ones/chauffeurs and skidded on a pile of sick. Slid about 2 metres into the waity bit before losing my balance and cracking my knee.  Everyone rushed forward to help me and make sure I was ok.

Made that last sentence up. Course they didn’t. I just got up and limped to the bus stop stinking of sick. I always thought it was probably some poor mail order bride vomiting before seeing the guy who bought her for the first time, but someone else said it could be someone off a stag do.

The day I got locked out

   Laughing boy (3/5 kids, pictured on the right, next to 5/5) was off school sick when he was about 9. Being not quite of this world (some people would say he is autistic with learning difficulties) I was a bit stuck when I needed some milk. He was comfy watching endless episodes of Barney, so I decided to risk a quick trip to the Co-op (50 metres away).

I read the riot act – don’t move, don’t stop watching the tv, do not get off the settee, do not leave the living room, DO NOT go near the front door. Do you hear me? NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS!! He seemed totally on board. I went out of the house, shut the door, then realised no door key.  Hilarious. Continue reading