Monday, 21 November 2011

Week 11- going out, pub quizes and fish graveyards

I think I'm going to have to stop going to the health food shop at the bottom of the road, or at least only go there when the woman is working and not her son.

It was meant to be a bit of a treat, make myself feel like I'm doing something for the environment when I refil the Ecover washing up liquid and at the same time have a peruse round an ethical shop that smells really nice. It's just that the woman's son ruins it everytime by asking me at the checkout what I'm up to tonight, not in a I'd like to go on a date with you way, but more a young person's enquiry as to whether I'll be going clubbing or something. (Already outgrown the young person's catagory now.) I shrug my shoulders at him as is to say, I've got a small daughter, why would you ask me?

But today was the pits when, as I shrugged at him he suggested 'are you just being a mum tonight?' Just. JUST? WHAT A COCK! I wanted to drag him over the counter and stick the organic bread sticks where the sun doesn't shine. Does his mum know he's being so unheathfoodshoplike? I want to be celebrated for being a mother, that's why I go in there and spend double the price on cottage cheese and oatcakes, not asked if I'm just being a mum.

And what's he going to do tonight that's so brilliant, hey?


I have had a night out mind. Ben and I went on our date. It was silly of me to put so much pressure on myself, it was, afterall, just Ben and I going to the pub round the corner for a bit of food.

Firstly the slendertone has not been performing to scratch (or more likely I'm eating too many jam tarts) but the dress I'd bought off E-bay didn't fit. Not even close. The zip was gaping wide at the top, and the bit I had got done up was cripplingly tight. So I settled for a maternity dress that didn't look too maternity. Mum came down to babysit. Nancy still wasn't taking the bottle so the idea was that I'd feed her up until the very last moment to give us as much time as possible out the house.

Nancy had a bit of a thirst on so fed until gone nine, and I started getting snappy with mum who said I was fretting, which I probably was, but more likely just absolutely starving. And at the crack of 9.15 we went to the pub.

It turned out to be quiz night, so the romantic evening was puncuated with general knowledge questions over the PA system, and they didn't serve wine by the glass other than the shite stuff, and finally, I ordered whitebait, as Ben had said it's a bit like scampi.

Wel,l when my dinner came it was a vegetarian whose nervous about eating fish's worst nightmare. It was like a fish morgue, just loads of little dead fish with their eyes looking at you. And they tasted really fishy too. I couldn't get past the gag reflex to eat them.

And to make matters worse, I couldn't think of one thing to say. It was like I'd lost the art of conversation the moment we left the house, and I missed Nancy, which was stupid as she was only up the road and we'd been gone for less than 30 minutes.

So I started to cry. Not big tears, weeping maybe, into my fish grave yard. And as Ben made me laugh, went to get us another drink, and it looked like the evening was turning around, mum rang to say Nancy was getting upset and we should probably come home. Not the most successful night out, but it was a start.

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