Item – well, we went to the sushi and movie extravaganza. It was fun-fun-fun.
Item – Minx and her bestest friend had a running squabble and had to be forcibly separated on multiple occasions. This was tiresome. This made me think uncharitable thoughts about Trouble’s parenting skills.
Item – My sister had told bestest friend’s mother I was a super-special snow-flake on the basis that said woman is a midwife and might have some advice. I’ve never needed a sodding midwife. What the hey, Trouble? As it was, said woman was embarrassed as I was and we politely Spoke Not Of That.
Item – At one point I lost my tiny mind and found myself carrying a sleepy Minx back to the car-park. Now Minx may be a small, slender, fine-boned six-year-old but she is still a six-year-old and after a few steps the Voice of Reason tapped me urgently on the shoulder and spake thusly: ‘May, you’re going to pass out. Put the kid down before you both crack your skulls open on the pavement.’ So I offloaded Minx onto H and staggered around a bit until what was left of my blood got back to my brain. And was very subdued for the rest of the evening.
Item – Up was, well. It was good. It was enjoyable. It was funny, and scary, and moving. The famous opening sequence was much briefer and more subtle than I’d expected (I was almost disappointed by this), but it was well-observed and felt sadly familiar. The house and balloons turned into the most beautiful and elegant metaphor for the burden of grief I have seen in a movie. It wasn’t one of Pixar’s best, and seemed to consist of two plot-lines violently bashed together until they stuck, which did the two main themes something of a disservice. It was very, very beautiful to look at. So, you know. Why not go? Unless large dogs scare you anyway (at one point of maximum tension, I heard Minx, several seats away, bellowing: ‘Bad doggies! Bad!’).
Item – Because of how the seats were booked in advance, H ended up taking the lone seat a little way away from the rest of us. I still can’t work out if he did this out of politeness or out of a strong desire to actually not sit next to any restless children or infuriating in-laws.
Item – My brother-in-law is a Fucktard. As is my younger sister’s boyfriend. Oh, they said nothing to me. They just are boring, self-centred wimps who find it perfectly acceptable to leach off their partners and their partners’ family. Am I the only one of the whole damn clan with any taste at all in men?
Item – This naturally leads to the extremely bitter thought ‘why can they have children while I can’t…’ and we shall stop that right there, as it gives me indigestion and makes me unreasonable towards inanimate objects.
Item – I think it was because there were children present (and acting like cocaine-fiends) and we were in public places and I was very quiet anyway, as I felt very tired, but Trouble did absolutely no hand-holding or bawling at all. But did do an infuriating ‘I know something special about you that the others don’t know’ act, asking me if I was really really OK, after, you know… in front of the others right after I had answered their questions with, ‘I’m fine, really.’
Item – OK, it was probably dumb-arse to say that, as I was, according to H, both ashen and waxen. Don’t panic, I look better today.
Item – Pffft. Bit of an anti-climax all round.