Amandababble Week Eight

What did we talk about before the scorcher? It is dominating the every word and thought of all I encounter. The lady in Greggs told me yesterday that she had to sleep in the garden or she might have actually cooked, and she can’t wear her regular shoes as her feet have swollen to the size of tennis courts, that’s how hot her house was! My milkman apparently had to canoe out of his jungle like sweltering depot, fighting off crocodiles and stepping out of the way of leaping gazelles. By the sound of it, he had to cool down the cows teats himself with ice packs, or we’d all have been given frothy hot milk, wonderful for your latte, not so good on your cornflakes.  God bless you both, the West Country shall if nothing else be serviced with pasties, cream buns and dairy produce during the big heat wave.

I am actually slightly fed up of people saying to me, ‘Phew it’s so hot!’ I have lost count of the number, but to each and every one, I want to SCREAM, Yes I KNOW! If one more person feels the need tell me that it is uncomfortably toasty, while I stand with sweat dripping from my nose and so much factor 50 smeared across my chops that I look like I’m about to swim the channel, I might just smother myself with a pillow. Yes, people, its hot, we get it, but when the person you are talking to is standing in the same postcode as you, I think its safe to assume they are already fully aware of what the temperature is. I’m actually looking forward to the change in conversation topic, ‘Ooh its cooling down, isn’t it?’ – reaches for pillow.

The boys and the Major all arrived home on Friday, some had been mucking about at an army camp, sunbathing, cooking on open fires, giving their mates, horrendously inappropriate nicknames and not getting enough sleep, judging by their grumpy demeanor. And I’m not sure what the kids got up to.

I have been swamped with dirty army kit and army related paraphernalia and EVERYTHING requires a good boil wash. Our house is a small, three bed-semi, army quarter and I kid you not, I have to navigate lanes of camouflaged camping equipment, dirty boots and mess tins, just to reach the loo.

I have been writing like crazy this week, my new novel ‘A Little Love’ is coming along beautifully and I may have also started the one that comes after which is superb! But if my publisher is reading this, I haven’t, I am concentrating on my current one! I saw the cover for it this week and it will blow your socks off, it’s stunning!

I have big news to share later this week, my lips are sealed until I am given the green light, but as soon as I get the go ahead, I shall be shouting from the rooftops! Watch this space.

Son number two is off on holiday with his mates today, apologies to anyone in Turkey who encounters the pant wearing, balloon toting, cider swigging idiots, at least one of which I gave birth to. Mind you, watching him trying to pack is a real eye opener. So far, he has packed three different designs of flip flop, four packets of chocolate hob nobs and no towel, I shall intervene in a bit, but am letting him struggle for a while. It’s character building.

Thank you for all that have asked how I’m doing on my new weight-loss-get-fit plan, the answer is, FAB! I’ve lost over a stone and feel so much better. I think the success is such a big incentive to keep going. I don’t care about how large or small my bum is, but to be able to run up the stairs without struggling for breath is great!

Right deadline awaits, better get beavering. Things a bit hazy this morning, had rather a late night last night. We were celebrating the 85th birthday of a very special lady. Beautiful on the inside and out, clever, extremely funny and adored by everyone whose lives she has touched, my own included. ‘Happy Birthday,’ to the legend that is Jean Vorderman. x

 

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