Sunday 3 February 2013

Week 74- clubbing, planning and noises that make your ears bleed

I think I now know the most annoying noise in the world.

A fire alarm.

Or to be more specific, a faulty fire alarm that goes off on the hour, every hour, throughout the night. 

And worse still, they now make them so the batteries don’t just come out normally, you have to find the manual, which I can almost guarantee was thrown in the bin moments after the fireman said, 'hold onto this, you might need it.'
So you now basically have to take to it with a hammer to make it stop.
Amazingly, Nancy slept through the whole thing.

For a girl who can hear you tip-toeing past her room to go for a wee in the middle of the night, I was astounded that she couldn’t hear a shrill noise that was so piercing that it could make your ears bleed.

The temporary solution was to take in down, wrap it in a blanket inside a jumper inside a pillow, and sleep through the noise.

And when that didn’t work, poor Ben slept with the alarm in the front room and turned it off and went back to sleep every time it went off.
I sometimes feel like it doesn’t matter how hard you plan, how organised you think you’re being; when it comes to children, it can all go to shit in seconds.

After firealarmgate, we woke to a message from the childminder saying she was ill and couldn’t look after Nancy for the next two days.

I guess this is the downside to being dependant on one person to look after your child.

It’s great when it works, but the moment they‘re poorly, you’re stuck in a battle of the wills about who’s jobs more important, or who has the most immovable meetings booked, as to who takes the day off work.
Now, if my family lived round the corner, then it wouldn’t be a problem. I’d just ask my mum to mind her, which I’m sure she’d love. But when your folks are a six hour train/tube/train/bus ride away, that isn’t really an option.

I’d kind of forgotten, though, how ace other people can be to you when you’re backed in a corner. Within half an hour, one friend was taking Nancy for the whole day, and another for the following afternoon. It’s the good old British war spirit. Mums in a crisis stick together and help each other out. Because, you never know when you’re going to have to call the favour in.

But on the plus side, I’ve been out. Twice in a week, in fact.

That’s twice more than I’ve been out in months.

The one thing I’ve come to realise is that if you want to have a full on, booze fuelled, dancing on the tables, losing your phone, mainlining white wine without having any lunch or tea, night- invite a mum of a small child along.

It’s like months of pent up not-going-outness waiting to explode all over some poor unsuspecting barman.

That, combined with a high resilience to embarrassment, because, let’s face it, once you’ve had five or more doctors, midwifes and students staring at your fanny during labour; falling over in the middle of a crowded pub isn’t really a big deal.

I realised how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper night out, when I a) was shocked by the price of a pint in the pub, b) called clubbing ‘nightclubbing’ without even flinching. And c) had totally forgot how late pubs close.
It’s a bit of a red herring that places continue serving until gone 1am.
In the old days, by that I mean about 10 years ago, last orders were called at 10.45pm and time at 11pm. It was very straight forward, and meant that, on the whole, you would be home before midnight.
But now, as I bought another beer, it turned out that I was unknowingly tipping the 1.30am mark.

On a school night!

Needless to say, the whole next day was a complete struggle. And Nancy had to find entertainment in climbing over me as I lay flat out on the kitchen floor trying to will the cold lino to freeze out my headache.
But at least that bloody firealarm won’t go off again, so that's something, I guess.

PS, if you like reading my blog, please could you vote for it in the MAD blog awards. Shameless plug, I know, but as my friend, Sarah, says; 'shy girls get nought.'


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