Monday, 14 December 2009

Holidays are coming....!

Do you remember that phrase, chanted breathily (and not a little annoyingly) in an old Coca Cola ad? I have to admit (bah humbug) that the thought of an extended period in the heaving bosom of various members of my beloved family tends to fill me with trepidation rather than festive joy. It's not that I don't love them all to bits, you understand, it's just that, probably because I work full time, I tend to view holidays as a means of getting all that stuff done around the house that otherwise never gets touched.

Unfortunately, few people seem to share my sparkling work ethic and the Shah's idea of a few days off is to partake of what the children like to refer to as "Arse resting" and play mindless computer games. Poker is a particular fave, but sadly he refuses to play for money, so rendering this activity worse than useless in my eyes. As our kids are still school age, our holidays have to fit in around term dates and, during a recent half term, this is a snapshot of the activity chez nous:-

Day 1
ME: Decorate bathroom
SHAH: Does “work” (= plays Tetris on pc)
Day 2
ME: Still decorating bathroom, + fit in proof-reading of Shah’s research paper which is mainly gibberish
SHAH: Plays on Wii. Swanks to colleague on phone re excellence of research paper
Day 3
ME: Clearing up from decorating, do gardening, cooking etc, log on to work email & sort out crap.
SHAH: Plays on Wii
Day 4
ME: Attempt to clear out garage & shed, go to dump. p.m. take kids (inc Shah) to see special holiday showing of Indiana Jones & The Ludicrous Plot. Eat too many Revels out of sheer bad temper. Back home, log onto work again, sort out more crap.
SHAH: Clears out garage, whines endlessly about trips to dump, tells me everything that is wrong with my driving. Plays on Wii. Willingly accompanies family to flicks. Scoffs mega bucket of popcorn, swills 2 gallons of coke.
Day 5
ME: Take TD to visit Jack Wills outlet store. Arrange to have all salary paid directly to J Wills Esq from now on. Queue for TWO HOURS to get out of car park. Will to live long gone. Stagger home after 3.5 hour journey. Want to die.
SHAH: Plays golf all day with son. Arrives home and asks what is for dinner. Looks perplexed at reaction from spouse.

I could go on, but you get the general idea. The other thing that winds me up (Lord, there are so many I could write a book) about spending time at home is the amount of general detritus that the children seem to be able to strew about the house which then, of course, becomes completely invisible to them. A few years ago (in a fit of rage - or should that be another fit of rage) I wrote to The Times to share with their cerebral readers that I had found a novel place to hide my family's Christmas gifts - I was planning to simply stack them on the stairs where they would remain, unnoticed, along with all the other junk that lurks there, waiting to be restored to its rightful place by its rightful owner.

Amazingly, they published it and it sparked quite a response, I had letters and emails from as far away as Florida and Sydney. It's nice to know you're not alone!

1 comment:

  1. Oh dear, nothing changes does it? I can sympthise although fortunately the CH is so technologically challenged that he wouldn't even know how to turn on the Wii, even if it did work. He also (wrongly) feels that he does the lion's share while all I do is fanny around writing a book. I do all the nasty jobs though, after all he doesn't know one end of a toilet brush from the other! x


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