My week that was...

So in terms of surviving I am not talking a major natural disaster or catastrophe event here, but nonetheless for us it was a pretty big deal. I went to Bangkok for a week for my brother’s wedding while Mr P looked after our two boys on his own. I am happy to say it all went well, so well in fact that I might just have to do it again!

Bangkok was a blast, I really love this city. I thought this the last time I was there so was a bit hesitant about whether I would feel the same but I did. If you look pass the seedy aspect of it; it is a city just like any other major city in the world, full of the hustle and bustle of everyday living. The people are so friendly the food is great and the shopping is amazing. From the real designer goods in the malls to the very good knock offs in the various markets.

Even more surprising is that we, my siblings and I, managed not to have any major disagreements. Which if you knew my family is something of a rarity.  Yes, we are generally a close family but we are all quite opinionated and think we are always right! Which usually is a recipe for disaster if we spend too long in each other's company.  It was getting a bit fraught at the end after many sleepless nights and the odd hangover thrown into the mix but we got there in the end.

The Wedding day in itself was an experience money couldn’t buy. It started at 6am with a get together before the traditional Buddhist wedding. My new sister in-law’s family took us “farang” into their home, fed us, celebrated with us, even danced with us. In the evening we reciprocated with the “western” reception, where again we celebrated, ate and danced. I think it is fair to say that there was a lot of eating and drinking done by both sides of the wedding party on the day.

What about Mr P, left all alone in dreary London, you may ask?? Well he managed to survive his week of bonding with his sons. Of course the house was a total mess when I got back but they all seemed to enjoy not having me about to nag, shout and moan at them all.

However since I have been back he has come up with rather head shaking (me) and eye rolling (me again) comments...

“My hands are really dry now they always seem to be in water of some kind"


"What a nightmare it was trying to sort out their meals every day”. Bearing in mind I left him enough meals and a list of what to feed them every day!”

“Mealtimes are just so stressful”


“You know there were some days there that I felt I was always in the car, either dropping off somewhere or picking up or even going to the bloody supermarket...”

Hmmm, “No shit, Sherlock.. Welcome to my world!”

The Gym and I.......

It would be fair to say that I have a love hate relationship with the gym. I hate having to organise myself in the morning to go, hate having to exercise, but when I get there and once I start, I do enjoy it.  This on\off relationship has been going on more than 20 years now and I still can’t bring myself to walk away from it.  Before you think that I am a gym bunny, believe me I’m not.  If anything I would be the antithesis of a gym bunny.  I don’t have the latest hi-tech gear, I do like to get hot and sweaty and I don’t feel the necessity to wear makeup and have my hair looking good to work out.

But the strange thing is that since having kids it has become my place to escape to.  Sounds silly I admit, of all the places you can choose to escape from the kids (and Mr P and his bloody Sports Talk and Sky Sports) you wouldn’t think that the gym would come far up on the list... 

Why you may ask?  Well it is where every couple of days I get a full hour to switch off from everything else going on.  That’s a full hour where I don’t need to talk to anyone, I can listen to what I want to listen to, I can clear my head and “think”.  Think, do you remember doing that?  I don’t mean “think” as what should we have for dinner, the kids need new school clothes, what to get little Johnny for his birthday.  I mean “think”, that strange thing I used to do with my mind before it got cluttered with the daily grind of parenting. 

It’s an hour where in my mind I can think “how would I solve world peace”, “what shall I blog about” even daydream “do I really need those Christian Louboutin shoes”, “How would I spend my lotto millions”.  Okay perhaps those last two are fantasising a bit but that's the thing, my mind is free to wander and think all these weird and wonderful things while I plod along on the treadmill. 

An hour where I can people watch and try to slot them into one of 3 groups, the baggy t-shirters, the pretentious and serious gym goers.  Checking out whose boobs are real, wondering what possess the woman in front of me to wear a leopard print outfit and of course checking out the hot and sweaty men in the weights area.  All in that precious hour.  If I don’t feel like exercising then I can have a quiet coffee in the cafe all by myself.  The benefits of exercising can only come second to this me time.

Of course the fact that the gym also has a crèche where I can off load the kids for an hour or so a day has totally nothing to do with it!  Really it hasn’t.....