Home Alone

Thankfully no houses were burgled / bricks hurled during the making of this blog post

Last night was one of those rare occasions where I was home alone. Princess C was staying at her grandparents after a very busy and long day down in sunny Devon and The Strolling Mum was starting a horrible week in hospital covered in wires and sensors during what looks like another sodding mini heatwave (poor, poor her).

So for most of the day and the entire evening I had time to myself - which is a rarity and not always a welcome one. After spending a lot of time sketching and drawing, and doing household chores (any man who tells you that they lounge around in a deckchair watching sport wearing just a pair of pants has never been on the receiving end of his better half's wrath when she finds out he's done "absolutely sod all" while she's been away!)

I missed my girls. I missed the house feeling lived in, noisy, messy but most importantly feeling like our family home rather than just some place I'm living in.

It's also hell on my diet. As it's just me for most of the week and Princess C will be eating at her grandparents for three of those days I didn't shop - which meant hoovering up whatever food was left in the cupboards and freezer (not a lot!) so I made too much pasta sauce, ate too much pasta and polished off a stack of jaffa cakes that were about to go out of date. Bleugh.

Time alone might sound like a delicious luxury to some folk but to me, it's just weird now. Not right without Mummy and C.