Ouch. My shoulders are still throbbing from yesterday's sun. They are red and shiny and still so hot you could probably fry eggs on them. Of course, on the beach yesterday, I plastered all three kids with factor 50, spent ages doing it as soon as we got on the sand but completely forgot to put any on myself, and am now suffering. I can't help feeling that's a metaphor for my life - or motherhood, at least...
Still, can't complain, apparently at the breakfast table yesterday morning, youngest daughter sat there thoughtfully before declaring to my other half, "My favourite is Mummy". I've been smiling every time I thought about that today, despite shoulders. A bit of appreciation is a wonderful thing, especially when it's from your own offspring!
I started clearing out the boxes in the loft today. Obviously there are some there that have remained unpacked and untouched since we last moved (5 years ago) and all sorts of other distracting delights like old letters and diaries. I was really pleased to find the diaries I kept while I was travelling, eighteen months between 1996 and 1997 while I backpacked around the world on my own. The first entry in the 1996 diary begins like this:
Shocking hangover and vague memories of behaving dreadfully - stock New Year's Day feelings really. Feel a bit guilty about all my snogging and cheekiness - ahh well. I've decided to try and be a bit nicer this year and less of an old bitch - maybe that's too optimistic...
Oh, those were the days, snogging and cheekiness... I'm going to read the whole thing and reminisce indulgently, anything to put off the bloody box-sorting!
Hostages to Fortune
19 hours ago