The week end started with Vicky's seemingly 2 day long birthday. The "celebrations" started Friday night round at Debs. The 3 of us were accompanied by Vicky's daughter Beth, Debbies' son Sam and Beth's friend Abigail, all are aged 10 or 11.Oh and of course the whirlwind that is Debbie's, slobber on legs Boxer dog Marley. The kids are all great individually, but like a vodka bottle, petrol and a soaked rag, they can be a volatile mix. The night had a low key start. Debs sat kneeling in front of the soaps, transfixed like a cat watching a goldfish. Vicky sat in her pre alcohol state "lifting" the whole mood with her views on turning 34. I sat with Beth and Abs on the 2nd slowest laptop in Stoke, trying to induct the kids into the dark world of the Blog. By the time the Soaps had finished Vicky had moved into her Trans Alcohol state, and with almost relish we moved to the kitchen for a game of Cranium, or Curriculum as Sam called it (Kids are clearly under too much pressure with these SATS, we never used that word at 11).
Now playing a board game is akin to adding a lit cigarette lighter to the bottle/petrol/soaked rag mix. After some heated negotiations over teams i.e which kid is stuck with which "adult" we ended up with the following 3 teams "Team Blog" consisting of Beth and I, "The Trumpeters" (the meaning sadly became obvious) Abigail and Vicky and "Gangster Marls" Sam and Deb. The game was a mix of, Charades, Pictonary, Rapidough, Trivial Pursuit, bad humming and arguing over whos turn to read the question! with only one brief walk out. The whole thing seemed to last an eternity, and by nearly midnight we had all grown tired and irritated (well when I say all, I mean the adults!). It must be noted for the records that Beth and I were leading. After a disharmonious version of "Happy Birthday to Vicky", the kids retired to butcher some songs on Singstar, while the 3 of us indulged ourselves in some group navel gazing, in turn out-trumping each other with the pitifulness of our lives! My God, if this is what we're like at a 34th birthday, whats it going to be like at my 40th next week. (Please remember I am still technically in my 30s). By now, well entrenched into her alcohol phase, I foolishly suggested that Vicky could not fit into the chest freezer (this I knew this was only going to have one outcome!). Me and Debs joined the kids in the lounge, Vicky mumbled unconvinccingly about going to the loo. For the next few minutes we listened to the rustling, crunching noise from frozen peas, et al being removed from the freezer. After a while Debs, who appeared oblivious to Vicky's doomed endeavour, said with utter conviction that she couldn't find Vicky and that she was starting to panic. The rest of us, particularly Beth and I, steadfastly refused to be drawn into Vicky's madness, prefering instead to let her eventually give up, from wherever it was she was hiding (Beth totally has her mum's card mark). Anyway, after a failed attempt to hide in the freezer, a short lived and obviously cold spell squeezed in the fridge Vicky had settled for balancing on tiptoes in the tiny pantry, trying in her words to "Act as if she was the salt!". Vicky was clearly pleased with herself at this feat, Debbie was just releived that she had found her and Beth just breifly looked up, well used to not encouraging her mum's behaviour. Afterwards everyone bar me (for obvious reasons) attempted to do handstands with mixed but mercifully uninjured results. We left around 3am.
We had to make an an irritating diversion to an all night petrol station for fags (I am always reminded of Eddie Izzard's description of a line of murderers queueing up for a Twix) Of course me and Vicky couldn't end things there, so we spent another hour coming down to melancholic Elvis tracks. I finally went home at 4am. I am now realising it was a mistake to give Vick a the "Qi Book of Animal Ignorance"as part of her present. I am no doubt going to be persistently regaled with zoological trivia over the next few days.
.....Worryingly there were still 20 hours of Vicky's Birthday left
Now playing a board game is akin to adding a lit cigarette lighter to the bottle/petrol/soaked rag mix. After some heated negotiations over teams i.e which kid is stuck with which "adult" we ended up with the following 3 teams "Team Blog" consisting of Beth and I, "The Trumpeters" (the meaning sadly became obvious) Abigail and Vicky and "Gangster Marls" Sam and Deb. The game was a mix of, Charades, Pictonary, Rapidough, Trivial Pursuit, bad humming and arguing over whos turn to read the question! with only one brief walk out. The whole thing seemed to last an eternity, and by nearly midnight we had all grown tired and irritated (well when I say all, I mean the adults!). It must be noted for the records that Beth and I were leading. After a disharmonious version of "Happy Birthday to Vicky", the kids retired to butcher some songs on Singstar, while the 3 of us indulged ourselves in some group navel gazing, in turn out-trumping each other with the pitifulness of our lives! My God, if this is what we're like at a 34th birthday, whats it going to be like at my 40th next week. (Please remember I am still technically in my 30s). By now, well entrenched into her alcohol phase, I foolishly suggested that Vicky could not fit into the chest freezer (this I knew this was only going to have one outcome!). Me and Debs joined the kids in the lounge, Vicky mumbled unconvinccingly about going to the loo. For the next few minutes we listened to the rustling, crunching noise from frozen peas, et al being removed from the freezer. After a while Debs, who appeared oblivious to Vicky's doomed endeavour, said with utter conviction that she couldn't find Vicky and that she was starting to panic. The rest of us, particularly Beth and I, steadfastly refused to be drawn into Vicky's madness, prefering instead to let her eventually give up, from wherever it was she was hiding (Beth totally has her mum's card mark). Anyway, after a failed attempt to hide in the freezer, a short lived and obviously cold spell squeezed in the fridge Vicky had settled for balancing on tiptoes in the tiny pantry, trying in her words to "Act as if she was the salt!". Vicky was clearly pleased with herself at this feat, Debbie was just releived that she had found her and Beth just breifly looked up, well used to not encouraging her mum's behaviour. Afterwards everyone bar me (for obvious reasons) attempted to do handstands with mixed but mercifully uninjured results. We left around 3am.
We had to make an an irritating diversion to an all night petrol station for fags (I am always reminded of Eddie Izzard's description of a line of murderers queueing up for a Twix) Of course me and Vicky couldn't end things there, so we spent another hour coming down to melancholic Elvis tracks. I finally went home at 4am. I am now realising it was a mistake to give Vick a the "Qi Book of Animal Ignorance"as part of her present. I am no doubt going to be persistently regaled with zoological trivia over the next few days.
.....Worryingly there were still 20 hours of Vicky's Birthday left
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