The Witty Ways of a Wayward Woman

The day is coming. Yes, it is!

No, I'm not about to preach that the end of the world is approaching; I mean the day is getting nearer when I no longer have to do the school run.

Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!

Sound the trumpets, wave the flags and blow the horns. Notify the Queen! I will be a free woman at last!

(Well, from 8am to 4pm anyway.)

Yes, finally, after 14 years of the school run, my two younger sons will be catching the school bus from the end of our road and my eldest will (hopefully) be going off to university. Believe me, as this day draws closer you've never seen a happier woman than Mrs T - except perhaps Demi Moore when she hooked herself Ashton Kutcher. (That was before she realised the cost of the extra childcare.)

Okay, okay get out your exercise book Mrs T...

I am not jealous of Demi Moore
I am not jealous of Demi Moore
I am not jealous of Demi Moore
I am not jeal..........

Look, there is something to be said for having an older husband! Umm.. When I discover what it is I'll let you know. In the meantime, what can I say?

I have an aversion to slippers.

Anyway, in preparation for Young Sam leaving the bosom of the family I have spent the last week or so researching second hand cars. And blimey, what a nightmare! I haven't even had time to blog what with the endless searching, insurance quotes and test drives.  Of course, Young Sam would happily settle on anything with 4 wheels - but when I suggested a scooter with some extra wheels he didn't take too kindly to the idea. Pity. I kinda liked the idea of him scooting down the bypass at 60mph - I think actually seeing daylight and breathing air instead of living in that darkened room with the fetid odours of decaying salami sandwiches would have worked wonders for his acne. Still, what am I to know? I'm only his mother.

However folks, since Yours Truly is forking out for this car I have noticed that Young Sam has been slightly more appreciative of my cooking. Hmm..what a duplicitous fellow. Does he think I can't work it out? Anyway, little does he know that I have plans for him this summer;

I am going to teach him how to cook! (No laughing please.)

Yep, the best Young Sam can presently do is warm up a tin of soup. And if, horror upon horrors, I should ask him to make a cup of tea he looks at me with a face like the president of BP might have when he finally realises the UK shareholders aren't going to let him have a bonus this year. Yep, you know the look that says;

What? I'm innocent! I swear to God I screwed that cap on really tight; it's not my fault it was a toothpaste cap! I blame my secretary she didn't send me a memo that I needed a bigger cap....."

Said the actress to the vicar. (Sorry couldn't resist that. Too easy.)

WARNING, WARNING, WARNING, I AM INTERRUPTING THIS POST FOR A NEWSFLASH WHICH I JUST HEARD ON THE RADIO....

TOM CRUISE IS IN NEGOTIATIONS TO MAKE A SEQUEL TO TOP GUN!

May I suggest we all cover our eyes and ears now before this catastrophe of film making is unleashed upon the world.

Hmm... I wonder; do they use midget replicas for those action sequences? Do you think the props man glues together Airfix models of F11s and then tells Tom to hop on in? Hmm...just curious....

Anyway, back to Young Sam. So I'm going to teach him how to cook. Now folks, I have actually tried teaching him before but he never takes me seriously. So this time I think I'll start with some of my simple recipes such as;

1. Pizza. Take off wrapper. Put in oven. Stand next to it so you can rescue it before it starts to burn.

2. Cheese omelette. Whip up 3 eggs with a little milk. (Remember to remove shells first.) Put in hot frying pan. When it looks a little firm add cheese and fold over into a pancake shape. When that fails mash it all up and make it into scrambled egg. Serve with beans.

3.Chicken curry. Dice up some chicken breast and fry in a little oil. Open jar of sauce and tip on top of chicken. Simmer for 30 minutes. When 27 minutes have passed, open packet of rice, place in microwave on high and cook for 2 minutes. Perfect.

4. Tuna and pasta speciality a la Mrs T. Boil some pasta, when cooked rinse under cold water. Add some tinned tuna and salad cream. Chill in fridge and Hey Presto one culinary delight!  (If feeling adventurous, add some tinned sweetcorn.)

5. Angel Delight. Open packet and whip contents with half a pint of milk. (If you pour in too much milk serve in glass as a milkshake.)

So that's my easy recipes. Not too too difficult to handle I feel. My spaghetti bolognese might prove a little more difficult - I have problems with that stringy stuff.

Anyway, don't think I'm stopping with just cooking folks; I also have plans to teach Young Sam how to clean the bathroom!  Now I have actually being making hints about his lack of bathroom cleanliness for sometime by using the following subtle remarks;

1. Oh my God...what is that?!

2. Bloody Hell...someone pass me the air freshener.

3. Cough, cough, splutter, splutter. SAM!!!!! Would you mind opening the window, I can't reach because I'm having convulsions.....

4. Sam..... do you have a problem you want to tell me about?

5. It's alright everybody; I've just fenced off the bathroom.

6. If that's a slug trail then I'm Coco the Clown.

7. I've only got rubber gloves Sam, not body armour.

8. Jesus, and I thought meconium was bad.........

9. HELP! There's a python down the toilet!

10. Pass the gas mask Sam; I'm too young to die.

11. Have you got a dead rat up your arse Sam?

12. So how's the experiment going Sam? Is is safe to turn the lights on?

And so on....

But so far he's just not getting the message. Now I don't really want to call my own son thick ...

But he's thick.

But is that intentionally thick or unintentionally thick? Is he pulling a fast one on me Readers by ignoring this problem? Hmm...Mrs T is perplexed. But one thing Mrs T does know is that all the males in her house have the same problem......

You know, I think I'm going to become a lesbian and move in with a woman. Bathroom cleanliness issue instantly solved.

Okay, I could have a problem in that I actually prefer men but well sometimes where needs must.....

Right... so I'm looking for a woman who is prepared to do all the cooking and cleaning and just let me slob around and do whatever I want. Any takers?!

Oh my goodness, I have just had some deeply disturbing news! My good friend Mrs D, in whose villa we are staying in Cyprus, has sent me a highly informative document with all the relevant info we will need for our stay - from taxi firms, supermarkets and tourist locations to telephone numbers, doctors surgeries and, of course, of vital importance - the location of the iron. It is an extremely thorough document and obviously designed for a complete thicko such as my good self who hasn't the vaguest idea about what she should be doing. In fact I'm still wondering what size of suitcase to buy for myself... and we leave in a week's time. Oh dear!

Anyway, I was taking all of this in my stride until I read the following...

"Next to the toilets there are bins. It is not recommended that you flush the toilet paper down the toilet, this is common in Cyprus so please use the bins provided. There are several large bins at the start of the estate for all to use and they are usually emptied twice weekly. There are more bin liners of many sizes in the cupboard under the sink."

Ohhhhh my God! What am I to do? Has Mrs D forgotten that I have 3 sons who could compete with Zeus for the title of Toilet King?! And as for the good Mr T......Heaven help me! I shall be emptying the bins daily, perhaps hourly and forced to wear the nose peg, gas mask and decontamination suit that I normally save for emergency loose bowel situations.

Ohh woe, woe is me!

I sincerely hope these bins have been constructed on a par with a nuclear reactor otherwise there maybe a sudden population decline in Cyprus during our stay.

Right, I know it's late at night but I gotta go... I just need to checkout the cost of bulk ordering fragrant nappy sacks online. Hmm. Maybe I can just get them shipped straight to Cyprus?

Gez, a woman's work is never done.......