Saturday Morning in Starbucks

I overslept this morning. Spectacularly. Well – spectacularly for me. I didn’t scrape myself out of bed until 9am, and then my head reminded me that I drank three glasses of wine while watching “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” late last night. It’s taken me until now (an hour and a half later) to come round. I really can’t drink any more.

I’m not quite sure how I missed “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” – I remember seeing adverts for it years ago, but it wasn’t until listening to Marc Maron’s podcast yesterday where he interviewed Danny DeVito that the seed was sown to watch it.

I’m sitting in Starbucks, if you were wondering about the title of this post. Miss 14 is at football practice – at the big park down by the river. I walked into town with her, on the agreement she can come and find me when she finishes. I’ve holed myself up at a table at the far end – away from the hubbub of trophy mums and label clad youngsters. There’s an impossibly pretty blonde mum sitting just across from me with her little girl. She’s intimidatingly beautiful – and making me self conscious about my scruffy combats, hoodie, and nerdy t-shirt.

At least I had a shave today.

Whenever I find myself killing time in public spaces, my mind wanders off to Walter Mitty adventures – imagining unlikely scenes unfolding between the people nearby. Obviously I’m going to elope with that blonde lady – you know – the one I would find it impossible to talk to without stumbling over words, and laughing at entire sentences I didn’t even say.

Sunday Evening

Usually on a Sunday evening I would be making sure the kids have clean clothes for school, putting things in my work backpack, washing up, tidying up, and generally getting steeling myself for another week of mayhem. Only that’s not happening tonight – because the kids are still on their summer holidays, and I’m off work too.

There are plans to wander into a nearby town with our eldest daughter tomorrow – she has booked her holiday to coincide with mine. Somehow I think my arm will be twisted into buying her lunch at Nandos – she’s crafty like that. She also knows I like Nandos, even though we all know its really just over-priced chicken and chips.

Note to self – stay the hell away from Yo! Sushi, and Wagamama, because there is not enough money in the world for that. At least in Nandos you can order bottomless drinks and frozen yoghurt, even if you only make it through two each before feeling like you’re going to throw up spectacularly.

Beyond Nandos, I have no idea why we’re going. I suppose I could get some clothes for the trip to my parents – I’ve not bought any clothes at all since last summer. I need a new pair of trainers too – my last pair are so beaten up that the kids won’t let me wear them (yes, my teenage daughters have started to judge me).

Starbucks might figure in our plans at some point – it usually does – in a Winnie the Pooh “oh look, there’s Starbucks – we might just get a little something” kind of way.

Half the reason for getting out of the house for the day is because Miss 14 has invited a number of friends for a sleepover. We have pitched the family tent that saw us through numerous camping holidays in the back garden, and decorated it with fairy lights. If the weather is nice tomorrow night we’re also setting up an outdoor cinema – we have an old projector inherited from the infant school. I’m guessing we might need to apologise to the neighbours at some point tomorrow evening.

In other news I’ve been tinkering with a few things today. I rebooted my Tumblr blog. I still can’t decide how much effort to put into Tumblr – I’m tempted to use it as more of a life-stream than this blog – somewhere to post the smaller thoughts that aren’t really big enough for a “proper” blog post. I don’t know. This post is nothing more than a few random thoughts glued together, which kind of makes a mockery of it.

Anyway.

It’s already 10pm. An early night and a book for me (we know in reality I’m going to play chess, surf the web, and read online comics for the next hour, don’t we).