A Free Weekend!

This weekend we don't have the boys. Much as we love having them it's also nice to get a bit of time to ourselves. We've been planning what to do for ages and had decided that we'd go for a really long walk and blow the cobwebs away, followed by maybe catching up with friends and throwing a few pints down our necks, relaxing, messing about outside and spending some time together doing the things we love doing. Yippee!

The weekend rolled around and promised to be mild and springlike. On Friday the sun shone and the wood-pigeons in the trees at the back of the garden cooed their approval. Chaos-man came home from work full of cheer, happily making plans for our weekend. I felt a little sweaty but thought nothing of it. We were going to kick off the weekend in style, and go to the pub with our friends, get toastedly drunk, come home and finish some wine off, get drunkenly amorous, and fall asleep in each other's arms. Perfect!

At the pub I was finding I needed to sit stiller and stiller as I felt sicker and sicker. Mr C and my friends were merrily knocking back the pints as I got stiller and quieter, suggesting possible cures for my nausea. These included a vast array of drugs, Redbull, crisps, holding my breath, and incredibly a pickled egg! At the thought of the rubbery vinegery texture of pickled egg-white I had to do a runner and I chucked my poor suffering guts up.

You know how it is. You throw up, you feel better for a while. And I did, laughing at a drunken Chaos-man trying to pick a name for the new incarnation of his band. He didn't like the suggestion "Winter-Flowering Pansies", and flatly refused to consider "Midget Man and the Stumps". All my best artistic endeavors go to waste sometimes.

This stomach bug was relentless though, and quickly I was feeling green again, and when time was called we went home. I'd had the reckless amount of just under half a pint of beer. Rock N Roll! We got home and I went straight to bed with a hot water bottle, a cup of peppermint tea, and a bin by the bed. Romantic or what?

This morning I'm feeling a little better after Chaos man made me some porridge laced with Cinnamon. I still don't feel up to doing what we'd planned, and I'm not ruling out seeing my porridge again, but as I lie here in my sunny bedroom listening to Him crash around the kitchen, washing up and pottering, his music on loud, ignoring the pain in my stomach, I'm actually feeling pretty content.