Snow, Hotels & Spookies


Name that Tune: “Homeless is where the is heart is, So walk on by and I’ll be fine, this cardboard cover, Keeps away the gales of the night” – Cruel Moon, Glasvegas

Movie Quote of the Day:
“Well, why don’t they call it The Big Chill? Or The Nippy Era? I’m just sayin‘, how do we know it’s an Ice Age?” – Ice Age

No school for the childerbeast for the last 2 days due to the (and I quote) “Extreme Arctic Weather conditions”. For ‘Arctic’ read 5 below at night and 4 or 5 (possibly 6 in a drift) inches of snow. Why is it that if it snows enough to make a few snowballs south of Watford suddenly we are the grip of a Baltic Big Freeze, mobile soup kitchens on the M11 and transport doesn’t so much as grind to a halt but actually doesn’t even bother to try and get out of the depot – Monday morning not a single bus ran in London! “Worst snows for 20 years” boom the headlines. Well no actually, for as many years as I have lived in the West Yaarkshire wilds, at round about this time of year we have had this much snow, yet because the South didn’t get it then this bizarre and strange, phenomenon (it’s called W I N T E R) never got so much as a brief mention on the National news.
I’m not bothered that there was no school but that’s because I am not usually in work Monday & Tuesdays so I didn’t have any daycare issues and I do feel for the parents who have had to use up days off to stay home and mind their children so Dear Me United Kingdom?!…it’s not like this hasn’t been forecast for a week, we knew it was coming…..Buy a bloody winter coat & some wellies, grab a shovel, get your fleece on and quit bleating about it. It’s not Arctic by any stretch of the imagination, it’s a bit of snow for goodness sake, not the next Ice Age!
But if you do see any homeless folks about as you’re trudging to work, spare them a thought, a smile, a kind word and if you can, some change, because only the bonafide homeless would be sat out in this cold, the fakers will be in the pub or at home with the heating on. I’m sure they’re not sat in doorways for fun.

I took the kids down to the bakers today and in lieu of a sledge I made use of the army camo tarp I bought for camping last year and dragged them along on that to the accompaniment of much giggling, shrieking and laughing.

It was Bman’s birthday yesterday so as his present I booked us in at the Crowne Plaza in Leeds for dinner, bed & breakfast on Saturday. We did the same thing last year but at the Marriot. We are thinking of continuing the trend & each year trying a different hotel. We could do our own book – The Brewer Guide to Dirty Weekends. Not that there was much of that to be honest. Bman had been at work since 0500hrs so was worn out after we had used the pool and sauna & then my body, rather inconveniently & out of sync, decided to start riding the crimson wave – so dirtiest part of the weekend was when my dress blew up in the breeze on the walk back from the Co-Op after dinner when I had decided I could no longer survive the night without some Milk Tray & a box of Lilets, thus exposing my behind to a minibus full of young lads who jeered in delight and blew the horn a few times! High Times! I did give the bed a bit of a thrashing though – nothing like being thoroughly English in a hotel and bouncing up and down on the bed – even more fun if you are only in your knickers 😉

On a scale of 1 to 10 I would rate the Crowne Plaza as a 6 and the Marriot as an 8 – the Marriot had a better health club and nicer room, and the Crowne Plaza forgot our complimentary wine and fruit (though they did bring it later) and their scrambled egg was rough at breakfast – even I could have done better.

Who knows where we will go next year, though if this recession keeps up it will be the Etap down at Forster Square in Sadford – £42 including all you can eat continental brekkie – no health club facilities but we could always just take Ma B’s old foot spa and a paddling pool – Bargain!

After our R&R time away together and Ma B has returned home after her babysitting stint it all soon returned to the usual chaos. No sooner had we put the childerbeast to bed than one of them turned into a chunderbeast and while Bman washed, changed and dried the child then scrubbed the carpet, I gathered up the bedding and made with the gagging and the trying to clean the sheets before they went into the machine and managed to add to the regurgitated steak pie with my own vegetarian version, as I barfed into the sink! Happy Birthday DaddyB.

Down to earth with a bump after the relaxing night away. (I am sure this happened last year aswell or after some other child-free weekend one time. They sure know how to let you know that they are still top priority!)

Right time for bed. I spend far too long at this machine. So much so that I seem to be leaving behind some form of ectoplasmic residue of myself in this office. Bman is convinced that when he came home after midnight last night he saw me tweaking the curtains open in the office and peering out at him as he came up the drive. He was surprised when he came upstairs and found me away with the fairies fast asleep in bed (as I had been for about an hour). He is convinced it was me and that I was pretending to be asleep which to be fair I have done before, to avoid long and laborious conversations about trains – but not last night.

Whoever it was at the window, it wasn’t me!
Anyone got a contact number for Yvette Fielding?

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