Don't get me wrong - I love my kids, I really really really do. But I literally cartwheeled them into the school grounds this morning, whilst whooping and wearing my 'Hurrah!' sandwich board. The last week of the Christmas holidays seemed to last an eternity, and I had a constant headache from all the teeth gritting I did: “I'm boooooooooooored!” *grits teeth while sarcastically asking if the mountain of new toys from Santa have suddenly been beamed up by the aliens leaving you with nothing but toilet roll tubes to play with* “Where are we going today? What do you mean we're staying in AGAIN?” *grits teeth while muttering how the mountain of new toys that aren't appreciated have cleared me out*. It's a wonder my teeth aren't worn down stumps. So yes, I was rather glad that normality has resumed and my little darlings were safely back in the bosoms of their institutions ( I do mean school and preschool by the way, I haven't packed them off to the workhouse).
With those precious hours of freedom stretching before me, I returned to the gym after a three week absence. It was a bit of a half hearted work out if I'm being honest, but I gave myself a small pat on the back for going when I could quite easily have stayed at home watching 'Relocating hoarders homes under the hammer in the country' (I did make that up but it sounds entirely plausible) and eating Cheerios from the box. I showered at the gym, and was disappointed to see so many new people there, obviously all having decided to lose weight/keep fit as their new year's resolutions. Not that I begrudge people the chance to improve themselves, not at all. My issue was that they were in and out of the toilets while I was trying to sit under the hand dryer and dry my hair. I refuse to pay 20p for a 30 second blast from the 'hairdryer' (and I use the term loosely) in the changing rooms, especially as it takes about £8 of 20p's to dry mine. So I wait until the toilets are empty, and squat down below the hand dryers. Obviously I stand straight back up again should anyone walk in (I don't want to look like a proper cheapskate, even though I am), and after a few minutes of being up and down like a jack in the box, I gave up and walked out with a dry fringe and a helmet of wet hair.
It's a good job I don't go to the gym to actually lose any weight, because I don't need Rosemary Conley or Dr Christian 'I've had a hair transplant' Jesson to tell me that it's not good form to do your workout and then eat a packet of Tangfastics and a Double Decker (chocolate bar, not a bus) in the car on the way home. Oops. So things are at last settling down into the daily routine. All I need now is for Neighbours to return to the telly and all will be well with the World. You may remember I started this blog adamant that I was being dragged into being halfway-to-seventy kicking and screaming? Well it would seem, from rereading the things I write, that my resolve is loosening and I am almost happily accepting a sedentary lifestyle, welcoming a quiet and simple routine to the day. If I start wearing slacks and using words like 'pottering' and 'trendy', you have my permission to give me a sharp slap!