Wow, another full and fun packed day. I spent the whole day yesterday at Mummy and Daddy’s with only some of the family: 2 brothers, 3 nephews and 1 great nephew. A shocking amount of noise emanates from this many small people, especially when rival football teams are playing. 2 of the nephews support Ipswich and many other Shepherds Bush born clan and myself support QPR. When I arrived we were 2-1 up. I sang “come on you Rs, come on your Rs” and I even had an opportunity to sing my favourite QPR song which goes like this……Chim chiminee, chim chiminee, chim chim cheroo. Who needs Sol Campbell when you’ve got Shitto. The full time result flashed up onto the screen and we had done it, we had beaten Ipswich 2-1 away. Cheers erupted and 1 beaten, shaking with rage, nephew leapt at me, red faced and screamed right in my face “SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” “Goodness” I said, “he’s just like a red head”. “Yes” my brother replied in his dead pan way, “you can always tell when he’s upset”. And then quite unexcitedly, a correction flashed up on the screen. We’d only gone and done a QPR special, Ipswich had in fact equalised in the 90th minute. Harmony was restored after 1 quick round of “it’s all gone quiet over there.”
The same little-ens gave us all our biggest laugh of the day when Dickov of Blackburn was mentioned. Did we know that his first name is Paul? His second name is My. That’s odd said my Mummy and repeated it out loud to hoots all round “Paul My Dickov”. A ha ha. The same little-ens also informed me that my saying Mummy and Daddy is childish. Luckily nephew 3 leapt to my aid and said that I am the baby of the family. At 37 I am the youngest. Scary.
I also learned that I now have a 2 day old great niece. At last, another female in our testosterone fuelled family (my Mummy only managed girls on her 5th & 6th attempts). After a whole day surrounded by farting, football and wrestling, I wonder if she’ll grow up as tom boyish and tough as me. I do hope that she has more luck with Laydee skills than I do. I still don’t understand beyond the basics and I now understand that I never ever will. I just don’t get the point of so many bags, jackets, coats, skirts, dresses, hair accessories, earrings etc etc. And shoes and boots, which seems to be a major obsession with the Laydees at work, is the biggest mystery of all. What’s the point of having loads of shoes and boots, unless some are for walking or are slightly varied in colour or style? And please, cowboy boots for women who don’t even cycle or walk more than 20 yards let alone go near a horse. I tried to shop for a tee-shirt yesterday but had to give up almost immediately as my eyes glazed over the racks and rows of rubbish. All I wanted was a tight black, v necked cotton tee-shirt. All I saw were bolero shaped tee shirts with arms and no body. Point?? And various sequined shapes with odd arms. Point?? And tee-shirts that you have to tie up around your waist or ankles. Point? Rubbish. I just want to slip it on and wear it every day for years.
I did however find a pair of simple black flat pumps to wear with my new Madrid trousers. My nephews understand my point of view and asked me where my toes go, for they have pointed toes. I couldn’t answer them having worn nothing but trainers for 3 years but I have now figured out what happens to them having spent today trying to wear them in. They get squashed up against each other in hellish torment. I now recall from days gone by that I shall have plasters handy for the next few weeks. Shoes are so over rated.
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