Sunday, 31 January 2010


(Pic from Google Images)

Last night, I stayed in and was dainty and girly; I played with my make-up, watched Gossip Girl and spent hours at deciding on which elements to add/discard to create my perfect, custom-made wedding shoe.

Meanwhile Neil (note how he is not called Mac today... He's in the doghouse) was out at something called a 'headwetting'. A tradition (pfft) I am pretty certain was a scheme cobbbled together when he and all his mates were 15 and developing a cunning scheme to dupe their future wives into additional boozy nights out. Like a pact; they are now on their 3rd Headwetting, each ending in a similar manner.

The night begins with Neil professing that since the new dad will be shattered and not up for too much of an eventful night that he will be home 'early'. He then rolls in at between 3am-4am. Last night's was a whole new level though when he appeared in the bedroom covered in blood claiming he had injured himself. Leaping out of bed thinking he'd been stabbed on his way home, I soon discovered the truth of the matter which was he had bashed his head on a wall and knocked a crater in his ear. After a quick call to NHS24 and him refusing to go to A&E, I furiously wrapped the ear up in plasters and returned to bed.

20 minutes later, at about 4.20am while Neil was blisfully snoring his head off, I got up to sleep on the sofa. Which is where I remain writing this. Still haven't decided if the fact his ear is twice the size of his other one and bright purple will be penance enough. Maybe I'll get some TCP to 'clean' it, before adding a comedy bandage that he will need to sport at the office tomorrow. Hmmmm

While I sit here and wonder how it is possible that the smell of stale beer is managing to override my expensive fancy air freshners, I feel like Monica in the episode of Friends where she is moving in with Chandler and she cries " and I have to live with a boy..."

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