And so to the end of another Bank holiday week end.
The May bank holiday week end is possibly the time of year where the difference between the haves and have nots is at its most stark and here’s why!
The Bank Holiday of the have nots…
Friday after work drinks gets a bit messy even though you promised yourself it would only be a quickie after your ‘Thursday is the new Friday’ drinks and subsequent hang over.
Saturday morning doesn’t exist for you- why would it, so you get out of bed with the sole purpose of getting a paper and having endless cups of tea accompanied by bacon sandwiches and a nice bit of Danny Baker on the radio (probably on catch up because it starts at 9!)
You actually read the paper- in amiable silence, occasionally mentioning a news story to your other half who makes a sort of interested noise.
Mid afternoon you might amble to the shops without the hindrance of buggies, babies and bawling. Casually browse around as many shops as you wish looking for clothes for your forth coming holiday- it’s long haul.
Go home via the pub where you check over your purchases, shandy in hand.
Obviously it is sunny.
Depending upon how you feel, you either luxuriate in the bath and then get ready to go out OR, luxuriate in the bath and get ready to stay in. Ether way this will happen in your own good time.
Repeat the above for Sunday and Monday with a sprinkling of friends, meals out and disposable income.
The Bank Holiday of the haves.
Friday after work drinks get a bit messy even though you promised yourself it would only be a quickie having checked your bank balance and pass out situation with the other half.
The arrival of the week end proper is heralded by the sound of your off spring crying sometime circa 4:03am.
Get up in a hungover haze (because you can no longer hold even a minuscule amount of alcohol) and attempt to settle baby back to sleep to no avail so you are downstairs feeding by 4:30.
Get marooned just out of reach of the TV remote so you are stuck watching advertorials of ‘Tap Out Extreme Fitness Craze’ which only serves to remind you exactly how blancmange like your stomach now is and how little time you have to solve this issue.
Around lunch time (actually 7:30am) your other child and husband join you downstairs.
Attempt to plan the day around who will take which child swimming, who will pack the bag, who will have the luxury of a shower.
Because all of this happens to a background of crying it sounds as though you are shouting at each other and the temperature in the room drops by 10*C.
Decamp to swimming lessons and think murderous thoughts about the cost and the fact that they are called lessons when what you are actually doing is singing in a warm pool with your feet on the floor whilst pacifying a crying child (don’t worry, it is your child!).
Repeat for child B.
Feel so god damn knackered that you actually cry.
Feel so god damn unattractive that you actually cry.
Count down the minutes until bedtime (for you and the children).
To kill some time you head to the supermarket- this is clearly where you now buy your clothes for finance and convenience reasons. Feel harassed and frazzled.
To kill some more time you head to Homebase and look at the garden furniture. Realise that the likelihood of you getting the opportunity to sit on said furniture is minuscule and you may as well have strapped your money to a firework.
Bump into someone you used to go to school with, they are with their kids too. Note that they are looking absolutely knackered with sunken eyes and a vacant expression. They are wearing clothes just like yours (bought in a supermarket) and are peppered with baby sick.
Go over to say something along the lines of ‘Jesus Christ you look rough’ and realise you are in fact in the Mirror department.
Head home for bathtime and further renditions of Incey Wincey Spider and The Wheels on the Bus.
Repeat as above for next 18 years (obv not the bath stuff- that would be weird).
Good night all.

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