Trackie-bottoms

Note to Nobby - when your beloved changes into her track-suit trousers at the start of the evening the most affable remark for a husband to make is not 'Are you feeling fat, dear?' as you did yesterday!

A far more suitable question would have been 'Is that more comfortable, dear, considering the deranged day you've had and your understandable craving to flake out on the sofa now?'
I know we housewives are supposed to be attending coffee mornings, lunches and facials all day but, as it was, I broke with the norm yesterday and had 6 kids and a heavily pregnant friend over for much of the day. Admittedly our kids are at an age where they are pretty good at occupying themselves (although it’s always best to check on them when they get too quiet in case they’re putting make-up on the dog or seeing how may toilet rolls you can fit down the loo.) I sometimes even get shooed away in a moody Kevin-the-teenager stylie when there are friends over that Mum might embarrass them in front of. So I managed to get quite a bit done in between the bottom-wiping and snack-provision – 2 loads of washing, 1 batch of flap-jacks, cleaning, emails, and of course some gossip with my mate Peony. Though I love having her here, she's due to give birth any day now and I've told her the towels that are spread out on the kitchen floor are there purely because of the dog's dirty feet but I'm not sure she believes me. Perhaps it's the nervous tick I've developed around her that's making her think I’m worried she’ll go into labour on me… The way that if she makes any sudden moves or dares to utter 'ooh' if the baby kicks her I'm jumping up yelling 'What?! What?! Is it starting?!!' Poor thing must be totally sick of me but I can't help it!

But kids are like buses - they will leave you standing in the cold for hours at a time then they all come at once. And in their case it will usually be when you've just picked up the phone or started cooking or parked yourself on the loo. I was uploading some photos to the web and all I needed was 5 more minutes to finish when all of a sudden one turns up in her coat and gloves demanding I get the bikes out of the shed, another desperately needed some old toilet rolls for an urgent creative project, one needed me to play Bingo with him because none of the other children wanted to and my son of course just wanted me off the computer so he could use it instead. Then the dog joins in by pawing at my legs and looking hopefully at the door. And then the phone rings.

Oh well, I mustn't grumble, Nobby did buy me dinner after all. I did have to pick him up from work, drive him and the kids to the shopping centre and take the kids to ToysRUs while he looked round the sales first… but at least I didn't have to cook. And I thanked him graciously by letting him put the knackered, ice-cream pumped children to bed by himself afterwards while I took the dog out; very generous of me I thought. So then the casual lounging gear was calling and what can you do?

I've donned it again this evening, actually, although Nobby's not here to comment. I made the mistake of going back to the sales during school time this morning and spent over 45 minutes in one shop, and not because I am crap at choosing either. I knew exactly what I wanted, having done a little reckie a few days ago. It took that long first trying to get to the racks then queuing to pay. I have never seen a bun-fight like it. These French ladies take bargain shopping to a whole new level. I arrived only 5 minutes after opening and the mob was already in there, elbows working overtime and pushchairs being used as battering rams. Rose and I have often discussed a certain bizarre phenomenon we keep encountering in French shops. You start browsing through a rack of stuff and as soon as you reach out to pull something off for a closer look there's a person there up your bum trying to grab the same item. Even if the whole place was almost empty of customers when you walked in. It's true, I promise, especially in women’s clothes shops. It even happened to Nobby and me together in ToysRUs before Xmas. We were in the bedroom section looking at duvet covers, nobody else in sight. I had a Batman cover in my hand and reached out to pick up the last Spiderman one on the shelf and just as my fingers brushed the cellophane a hand swooped in out of nowhere and grabbed it! I turned round to protest to find it was one of the shop assistants with some bloke customer in tow, who did manage to look suitably sheepish when he registered the shock on my face. The assistant, however, never said a word and if you think that was bad, imagine what it's like in the sales. Oh yes, total torture.

By the time my friend Daisy caught up with me in the queue this morning I was apparently red as a tomato from the scrum to secure one little boys coat at 40% off and a couple of pairs of trousers. Consequently I didn't visit any more shops after that, we took refuge in a café instead to cool down. I spent the afternoon with Peony, trying to get her dog to walk to heel using a Halti. I’m not sure who won in the end. He’s only 9 months old but he almost pulled me over a couple of times fighting to get the thing off while I resolutely walked on calling ‘Heel!’ in my best Barbara Woodhouse voice. He actually obeyed better once I removed it, clearly so relieved to get it off, so we let him chase Tiggy around as a reward.

So she’s flaked out and in her trackie bottoms too now, I think Nobby should try it.

But bagsy not me going to the sales to get him a pair.