Summer has landed! For one week only. Get yer lallies out and reach for the flip flops and the fake tan. I have not got me lallies out (my legs) but I have applied a coating of Dove (gone for dark this year) and the Haviana’s have been taken out of moth balls. Hot weather always worries me. I enjoy it if I’m on holiday and I can lie on a beach in a bikini and not worry about what I’m going to wear for my commute. I have done a quick pit stop to H&M to purchase yet another baggy t-shirt to cover up my Malbec gut and my bingo wings. I have had to cancel my gym membership as I’m just not getting the time to get in there and sweat my squidgey arse off. My husband actually said, “I told you so, “ last night but luckily for him he left the room before I could throw a saucepan at his head. However, I am committed to getting fit again so I am donning the lycra and jogging. Yes, jogging. It sounds so simple but…then you have to actually jog. I decided to walk to the park and start in the park under the cover of trees and deer. Unfortunately, I started a bit late so it was hot as hell. I thought I was going to die the first 2 minutes and then I re-routed and found a concrete path that went downhill. Result. I did ok. It was fine until I had to go across grass and I gave myself a target of 22 minutes. I tried to “sprint” (ie jog faster) to a log and then I stopped my stop watch and sat on the log and tried not to vomit. I have to say, I thought that I was fitter than that. 25 mins on treadmill two weeks ago was doable. My heavy breathing and laboured running style was a disappointment, I ain’t gonna lie.
Hot weather with small children is also a worry, especially when your child is on the ginger spectrum and a pale Janet to boot. The first day of the heat wave I had a day off so we decided to get out of the flat and go for a walk to get Dishwasher tablets and ice lollies cos that’s how we roll. Off we went. I stupidly allowed the toy buggy to come with us. School girl error. You just know that as you set off that you will end up carrying it, plus child, plus other paraphernalia that comes with child. Also chuck in 25 degrees of heat and you have your workout right there. We went to our lovely local Supermarket and bought Dishwasher tablets (been meaning to get them for about a week and keep forgetting) and we also bought a four pack of lollies. Mission accomplished. We slowly made our way to the terraced gardens (get us) and sat down on a bench. Bliss.
Sun, my beautiful little girl and an ice lolly that contains a sprinkling of E numbers. There we sat looking at the view and spotting Jackdaws, Pigeons and Parakeets (she’s a budding young ornithologist). A mother and her daughter sat on the bench next to us. My daughter waved and I thought, “Well, we’ve got a pack of four. Let’s share our wares with our neighbours.” So, I offered a lolly to the little girl, via the Mum obvs. I was told, “No thankyou. I am trying to promote healthy eating in my daughter.” Well, that’s me told then. I was so proud of my little one. A little bit of sugar in the system and she was off: waving, talking at these lovely folk and showing them her lolly with pride, shouting out ,”Lolly” like only a person with a bloodstream filled with E numbers can. Go kid. I love you. You’re frickin awesome. You know where it’s at. Sometimes we have treats but most of the time you have fruit, veg and homemade goodness. But when it’s nearly 30 feckin degrees you can have a sodding lolly. The kid of this Mum looked seriously pissed off as she sat there watching my cool little dude cooling down with a lolly as she had to tackle her tangerine. So off we trotted home for a KFC mega bucket whilst I got shit faced on white lightning. (Only joking. Don’t you know I’m trying to instill healthy eating and a feeling of superiority into my daughter. Wink emoji)
So, during this wonderful heat wave, I had a glorious day off organised. Small person was going to her brilliant childminder and I had planned a day of open air jogging, cleaning, cooking and sorting out kiddos clothes as we are running out of space. She has such a vast wardrobe we could totes go walk-in on it. Off we drove. I dropped off small one. No probs and then popped to the garage to fill up. With Diesel. Or that’s what I thought. I had to fill up from the wrong side which meant doing that embarrassing tug of the pump round to the other side of ones motoring car. About £4.75 had gone in when I suddenly looked at the colour of the pump. Green. Cocking green. Unleaded was flooding into my Hyundai Diesel. I shouted out a loud expletive beginning with ‘F’ and put my head in my hands saying, “shit it” on repeat. It was such a long, tedious morning after that, that I won’t bore you with the deets but it cost me over £200, three hours of my life and some pretty embarrassed looks as I hunkered on down at the petrol station in the heat and wait for the AA fuel technician to come and rescue me. So the moral of this tale is: Check before you pump. Just do it. Use me as an example of a Class A prat and think of me next time you go to the garage. You will never get that valuable time back and you won’t be able to spend that £200 on ASOS. True dat.