Fat Weekend
I am extremely lucky to have an infant daughter who does not yet cramp my style. I'm still able to take her almost anywhere and get up to almost anything, and have consequently been having a fine ol' time. We went to Ant's birthday party on Friday night where there was champagne and Wrath of Khan and I ate far too many chocolate covered toffees. We watched Mystery Science Theatre until 1am, and when we got home Franc was so tired that she didn't even wake up when I changed her into her pyjamas.
Saturday was operation Bonobo Trifle, wherein Chris and Lucy were transferred from Failsworth to Dane Bank so that they could be two minutes walk from our house and four minutes from Ant n' Andy. Because Franc is no good at lifting heavy boxes and does not like to be where she can't see me, I directed the unpacking of the kitchen and the supply of tea and baked potatoes to the people who were actually doing hard manual labour. Sadly the schedule fell behind as these things so often do, and it became apparent that we wouldn't be able to make Bec's birthday party. Instead we took the tired people home where Chris and Lucy generously supplied take-away food and we bought a ton of snacks and had an impromptu game of Arkham Horror.
I wussed out early(ish) in order to be up bright and early this morning to head over to Leeds for a belated Thanksgiving dinner with Paul. The train journey was a bit of a nightmare because although Franc was perfectly well behaved and utterly silent for the duration, the lifts were out at platform thirteen and we had to be helped down the stairs by the transport police. We couldn't sit down on the train due to overcrowding and the pram not really fitting into the carriage, so I couldn't pick Franc up and feed her as I had to hold the handrail in the vestibule. Although she was startlingly patient about this, I began to get uncomfortably buxom. Before long my heaving bosom had become a sloshing bosom, and by the time we reached Leeds I was feeling a little like a water balloon that had spent too long under the tap...
Luckily Paul made all the hassle worthwhile. He had baked American style 'biscuits', brined up a turkey and made sublime garlic mashed potatoes, home made stuffing and home made cranberry sauce with orange peel and grand marnier, in addition to hand crafting a pecan pie of decadent magnificence. I finally introduced my daughter to Dan and Linette, who after a pleasant afternoon of conversation kindly drove us back to Manchester. Franc's pram magically transforms into a car seat, a feature I will doubtless miss when she outgrows that car seat in a few months time and goes into the larger non-transforming pram.
Back in Manchester we all headed over to cheer up Ninfa who had come home after having her gall bladder out. We let Cassie hold Franc and took adorable pictures in which Cassie is smiling wickedly and Francesca is looking confused and incredulous. I finally headed home to have a take-away pizza with my husband and flop into a chair after a truly exhausting but fun and food-filled weekend. Tomorrow I will probably have a lie-in, because there is far too much washing up to do.
Saturday was operation Bonobo Trifle, wherein Chris and Lucy were transferred from Failsworth to Dane Bank so that they could be two minutes walk from our house and four minutes from Ant n' Andy. Because Franc is no good at lifting heavy boxes and does not like to be where she can't see me, I directed the unpacking of the kitchen and the supply of tea and baked potatoes to the people who were actually doing hard manual labour. Sadly the schedule fell behind as these things so often do, and it became apparent that we wouldn't be able to make Bec's birthday party. Instead we took the tired people home where Chris and Lucy generously supplied take-away food and we bought a ton of snacks and had an impromptu game of Arkham Horror.
I wussed out early(ish) in order to be up bright and early this morning to head over to Leeds for a belated Thanksgiving dinner with Paul. The train journey was a bit of a nightmare because although Franc was perfectly well behaved and utterly silent for the duration, the lifts were out at platform thirteen and we had to be helped down the stairs by the transport police. We couldn't sit down on the train due to overcrowding and the pram not really fitting into the carriage, so I couldn't pick Franc up and feed her as I had to hold the handrail in the vestibule. Although she was startlingly patient about this, I began to get uncomfortably buxom. Before long my heaving bosom had become a sloshing bosom, and by the time we reached Leeds I was feeling a little like a water balloon that had spent too long under the tap...
Luckily Paul made all the hassle worthwhile. He had baked American style 'biscuits', brined up a turkey and made sublime garlic mashed potatoes, home made stuffing and home made cranberry sauce with orange peel and grand marnier, in addition to hand crafting a pecan pie of decadent magnificence. I finally introduced my daughter to Dan and Linette, who after a pleasant afternoon of conversation kindly drove us back to Manchester. Franc's pram magically transforms into a car seat, a feature I will doubtless miss when she outgrows that car seat in a few months time and goes into the larger non-transforming pram.
Back in Manchester we all headed over to cheer up Ninfa who had come home after having her gall bladder out. We let Cassie hold Franc and took adorable pictures in which Cassie is smiling wickedly and Francesca is looking confused and incredulous. I finally headed home to have a take-away pizza with my husband and flop into a chair after a truly exhausting but fun and food-filled weekend. Tomorrow I will probably have a lie-in, because there is far too much washing up to do.