Much excitement all round: we’re off to Venice for a few days to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary. The children seem to sense the highly indulgent grand-parenting that lies ahead. I thought I’d buy something new for the occasion and today I did just that. Underwear that actually matches? A Spring-tastic print scarf? Clogs to make it clear I still read Vogue and know who Alexa Chung is?
The five year old has a pair of enormous green Incredible Hulk hands. A Christmas present, rather than his actual hands, obviously. Anyway, you wear the Hulk hands over your real hands and then bash things, whereupon a voice from the glove shouts: “Don’t make me angry, you won’t like me when I’m angry!”
Wine is an excellent thing. Apologies for the inarticulate nature of this opening statement but with two out of three children currently running a temperature + a forgotten-about school closure day for the only one without a temperature + work day that culminated with middle boy wondering into the study half-way through a conference call dressed as a Power Ranger, I don’t have the mental capacity for anything other than short sentences.
Last night we held a Knackered Mothers’ Wine Club tasting at a local restaurant (the amazing Graze) to raise a bit of cash for our local nursery. It was a heady mix: eight wines + inquisitive people up for trying different wines + company of friends both old and new.
There are few things more dull than being stuck with the man who talks to your boobs rather than face at dinner but there is someone who trumps him in my experience: The Wine Bore. The WB uses wine knowledge like a weapon, beating those around him into submission with presumed superior wine powers. I’d be mortified to be labelled as such but if you ever catch me employing WB tactics, I’m doing it for a very good reason.