all is quiet as I tap out this blog. The girls sleep soundly next door. Carolyn gurgles and softly snores. And Misty my faithful yet crusty cat is at the end of my bed, staring at me. No purr. No look of love in her dripping eyes. She knows we are off on holiday. And she is not ruddy happy. Carolyn twitches hard and Misty continues to stare. I point a reptilian toe in her direction and she swipes! Hard! I pull back shocked. Carolyn stirs, swallows, grunts and falls back to sleep.
I have just finished packing. Before that I took a shower and shaved the areas the VEET hair removal cream did not find. My inner thigh resembles a bad case of eczema. And my Brazilian a crop circle of psoriasis.
Earlier today I checked out my swimming attire. I eventually found my bikini. I slipped into the off white bottoms and I could see my raggedy hairs popping through the worn out material. The sight repulsed me and I flung them onto the floor. I then squeezed into my black Adidas swimming costume. As I pulled each strap over my shoulder it pulled tightly up my bottom, it was painful as I walked like John Wayne over to the mirror.
I feared for my Father Giles and removed it. Clearly I would have to purchase another bathing costume in Spain. And most probably some anusol – just in case.
So here I lay. Sore. Nivea cream over my red bits. Still Being stared at by that furry fucker sitting at the end of my bed. And furious that the moment I fall asleep it will be time to get up as some daft plonker booked a silly o’clock flight from Gatwick. Ruddy Gatwick. I hate the place.
Night night. I’ll be back before you can say Is It really 03.30am in the fucking morning?
myfamilyandothermillers 