26th Monday:
Whilst everyone in the house was busying themselves getting ready for the planned overnight stay down in deepest, darkest Somerset, I was intensely debating with myself as to whether or not join them at all. The shower didn’t exactly help me make a decision but the moment I stepped into the throng of activity did: I wasn’t going, I was staying home alone. It turned out to be the best decision I’d made that day.
They disappeared and I set about getting myself into the loft. The primary reason was put away a bridesmaid dress that’s being knocked about since the beginning of September, but it also meant I had the opportunity to be very noisy and have a peek inside the two mysterious chests that my parents somehow shoved up there many, many moons ago, however many there have been in the last 27 years.
I discovered thick blankets which could have been useful during these recent cold snaps; ancient (ok, seventies) clothing; a couple of newspapers (the Express & Daily Mail) dated the 18th of December 1978; something which I presume was my mum’s wedding dress (I didn’t get it out and look properly), presumably spotlessly clean, folded carefully and fully wrapped in plastic, a fate which hasn’t befallen the previously mentioned bridesmaid frock; some old sleeping bags which I’ve never clocked before; and a badly torn, A4-sized photograph of a woman wearing a nurses uniform. I’ve not seen any pictures of my maternal grandmother, as I’m not aware of any existing, but I instantly guessed this was my mum’s mum. The size and shape of nose kinda gave it away.
With my curiosity fully satisfied, I clambered back down the ladder, shut up the attic, unplugged the lone light and set about making myself lunch: baked beans on toast, followed by a generous slice of day-old Christmas pudding and cream. Realising that not a single drop of alcohol had touch my lips yet I proceeded to make myself an afternoon’s supply of mulled wine. I slumped in front of the goggle-box and channel surfed whilst sipping slightly warm, sweet and spicy wine – hmmmm, could do with some more of that now. I soon realised that there was bugger all to watch and got very bored, if it hadn’t been for the regular refilling of my glass there could have been trouble. I even tried watched The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy on Filmflex, but it was far too annoying to stick with it. I was comparing it to the book too much to enjoy it as an individual piece of entertainment.
I fixed myself some tea, supped a little more wine, and generally enjoyed the peace and quiet. It would have been considerably quieter if the next door neighbours hadn’t returned and the kids, quite possibly fully of fat and sugar and who knows what else, ran around the house screaming their heads off. By early evening, I’d stopped caring that I was polluting my brain with crap tv and joyfully slugged away on bottles of Grolsch. This had a lot to do with the brief phone call that I answered, informing me that they where on their way home, mum’s had enough. Great! There goes all the interesting things I had planned for the evening’s entertainment. Instead I got squiffy and retired to bed rather late.
