Busy, busy, busy...

Have been quiet this last week because all of a sudden I've been too busy to breathe. Not that I'm complaining, just that things all happen at once in this house.

After the excitement of the party last week ( I sold 38 copies, more then Eamonn Holmes did, when he visited our Ottakars the other week! - I've blogged about it in more detail at the party: http://RunningonEmptyLaunchParty.blogspot.com), we had an incredibly busy weekend. We were knackered from the start as our local council had inconveniently decided to dig up our road last week - in the middle of the night...

Monday/Tuesday we were kept awake till 2am by lorries trundling up the road. This wasn't too bad, and was to a point almost soporific. The crunch came when said lorries reversed back down again, usually just at the point when you were dropping off. Naturally in these health and safety conscious days they bleeped as they reversed. Plus they had nice bright orange flashy lights which turned our bedroom into a disco. Great. On Tuesday I rang up the council to complain and was put onto our local councillor. I clearly wasn't the only person who had made a fuss, as he told me he was working his way down the list.

By Wednesday it looked as though most of the work had been done, so we foolishly presumed it was all over. How wrong we were. At 9.30pm the drilling started. And not any old drill you understand, but a huge f***off, drill to end all drills. And it didn't stop till 4.30am. The house was shaking at times. If we made that much noise pollution we would get served with an asbo.

On Thursday, we really really thought it was all over. But no. At 10pm the drilling started again, and this time stopped at 4am. By this time Spouse and I were incandescent with fury and fruitlessly rang every number we could find to complain: our local council emergency number (a man in the Midlands who simply logs your call and tells you to ring tomorrow), the police (no one can help till tomorrow), the emergency number provided by the diggers (unobtainable), the local county council (where Spouse left an uncharacteristically rude message), and finally our poor benighted councillor, who really earned his money last week...

On Friday the police rang back and told me that it wasn't their responsibility (I had been told they had authorised the work), so basically everyone was passing the buck. I did eventually hear from the county council who said, did I want to lodge a formal complaint? You bet I did!!! The woman concerned did at least say they would look into it, so I await further developments with bated breath... At least they seem to have finished now.

Friday night, we had arranged to go out for a drink as I wanted to see one or two people who hadn't made the party. But being so exhausted from all this exciting activity chez nous, we didn't stay out late and were in bed by eleven, as Saturday was full of our usual ballet run shenanigans. We had also been invited by some friends to a barbecue to watch the footie.

No 1 has developed a great interest in the footie - so much so that I spent Sat morning finding her a fantasy football team - I keep trying to gently bring her down to earth by suggesting that we might not win. But she won't have it. She is sure we will. I wish I shared her optimism. I did tell her she's going to have her heart broken and she looked at me baffled. Well she is only ten. She doesn't yet know the agony of a penalty shoot out...

The barbie was lovely - we sat in the sunshine while the sprogs played. I also reencountered my doggie friend, Toffee, who I've written about in my book (it's on my website, www.marathonmum.com if you're interested). Basically Toffee managed to get me lost in a tiny village in Spain - and on meeting him again I realised why. When his mistress told him to go left, he went right. I was running with a dog with no sense of direction... It all makes perfect sense now.

Our life being what it is, we were not only invited to the barbie, but also a fiftieth later in the evening. So we had to dash back home with the sprogs, settle them down, get spruced up and head off out again at about 9.30. It was a glorious evening and we didn't end up leaving till 2. We pretty much danced all night, which was fun - though our dj mate would keep playing our favourite tracks as I was trying to shoe horn Spouse home. I was driving so was stone cold sober, but I did have to get up early as no 2 was getting all togged up in her Holy Communion glad rags to have a party to celebrate the occasion. And we had the school summer fete... oh joy.

So I took the sprogs to church in the morning, while Spouse did men's things in the garden. All apart from no 4, who got up complaining of a headache, and then keeled over in her bedroom as she was getting dressed. I think she had mild sunstroke... Fortunately it didn't last long. Luckily no one fell in the font at church this time either...

Then it was home for a quick lunch before dashing out to school.

I must have MUG written on my forehead. I really hate school fetes. And I really hate helping on stalls. And yet I always find myself both attending them and helping. As I have two children in the juniors, I had two stalls to help on. And no1 was taking part in a dance display so I had to rearrange both stints so I saw her perform. When I got there I discovered that the dance routine was taking place later then I was told, so I arrived twenty minutes late for the putting I was supposed to be helping with.

The first stall I was meant to help on turned out to be overstaffed, so with great relief I took the kids round and they quickly liberated me of nearly all the money I had. Nos 3&4 insisted on queuing up for tatoos, only for them to decide they were too itchy so I had to rub them off. An hour later they wanted more... Nos 1&2 had their hair dyed - no 2 declared that she'd never do it again when she realised how difficult it was to wash out.

It was very hot, I got heat rash, and was very bad tempered. However, the kids loved it, no 1's dancing was great and one of her teachers had a very fine band which played my kind of music all day long.

So it wasn't a complete washout....

I got home, sorted out tea, left Spouse to put the kids to bed and headed out for a very welcome game of tennis.

I was so knackered when I got back I was sure I would sleep the sleep of the dead.

The only problem is our bedroom was so hot I found it rather difficult to sleep.

I think I need a holiday....