Sunday, 3 January 2016

Week 221- downing shots, getting trodden on and seeing in the New Year...

I’ve had my first proper New Years day hangover in five years.

And I was so unprepared for it.

We didn’t even have Paracetamol in the house so I had to drink Calpol straight out the bottle.

Not my finest moment.

Also, it turns out the hands of a five-year old are quite soothing if they hold your forehead, albeit a bit sticky.

New Years Day arrived and I was fast asleep in my party dress clutching my handbag with what can only be described as a footprint on the back of my coat.

Myself and Ben had decided to tag-team it to the pub over the road with a load of mates on New Years Eve, therefore all getting a night out but foregoing the babysitter.

The rumour goes I ‘tag-teamed’ it over there after midnight, to not return for the takeover shift.

So, whilst Ben was up with children for quite a bit of the night, my hazy memory is of dancing like no-one was watching and downing shots.

A bit of a low blow for joint parenting.

But a win for Calpol sales.

New Years Day is also the worst time in the world to start resolutions.

You need all the carbs you can get to soak up the vat of gin and tonic.

But come 2 January, it was time to get a grip.

I pulled on my bobbly leggings and early 90s trainers and dragged myself down to the gym.

Only to see the notice that the ’24 hour’ gym was closed.

So I drove the ¼ mile home again, and decided that maybe 2016 has different plans for me.

Maybe this year isn’t my year to shrink to a size 10.

Or get so fit I can carry my children round on a shoulder each like Geoff Capes.



Maybe this isn’t the time to take control of my finances so I don’t play cash card roulette the week leading up to payday.

Or maybe it is.

Who knows.

But the one resolution I am going to try and stick to is to not sweat the small stuff.

Because 2016 is going to be a busy ‘un.

With my play touring, our daughter starting school, and fingers crossed, us sorting the house out so it doesn’t feel like we’re living in an episode of ‘How We Used to Live.’

And if we’re going to get through it unscathed I am going to have to learn to chill the fuck out.

And also stock up on Paracetamol.

2016- I have a good feeling about you.

So bring it on.


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