Today is the first day of my holiday with First-born. And again, I find myself back in the marital home, prowling about like a caged tiger. Ok, more like a mildly annoyed sloth, if truth be known.
First-born is sleeping off a late night, so I'm kicking around waiting for her to surface, at which point we will go swimming, eat out at her favourite resteraunt (yes, THAT place) and then do some pot-painting in the local art shop. She paints flowers and smiles. I paint palm trees and rockets.
But the house is so strange. The furniture is all the same (I can point to every piece and tell you where it came from, what was going on around the time we bought it and so on.) Except there's some of The Boyfriend's stuff shoe-horned in. And things have been moved around.
It smells different too.
And I was unprepared for what was to greet me when I opened the oven to make first-born's breakfast. Ewwww.
There was also the ongoing challenge of being civil to The Ex and The Boyfriend before they left for work. My usual strategy of comforting myself with the knowledge that they'd probably be dead some time before me did the trick. Nod, smile, nod, smile.
Tomorrow - expensive hotel with huge window looking over the Thames, Big Ben and the houses and parliament. Photos to follow.
I'm also updating the side-bar. Beware the broken links...
