Monday – The first proper day of the school holidays

Monday – The first proper day of the school holidays. A day reserved for kid on kid violence, oven cleaning and bin hygiene.

So that’s one fuck off massive fight, two little shits crying, three bins cleaned out, four cups of coffee to get me going after the five pints of beer that I drank yesterday. Oscar has read six pages of a book as punishment for twatting his sister at least seven times. Thug Pug has been fed around eight times. I used nine eggs at lunch time because Dangerous went shopping yesterday whilst I was out and bought the grand total of pretty much nothing that the little shits would eat. They wouldn’t even eat the bread that he procured. We had to be out of the house at nine this morning because I had to have a fasting blood test. I neglected to ask the doctor just what this meant and so read no less ten articles on why I couldn’t have a cup of coffee to get me going. At eleven o’clock we returned after our very wet walk around the park and rescuing my car which I abandoned yesterday. By 12o clock, I had given up feeling happy that I am spending the week with my darlings and had invented thirteen new and exciting variations on some classic swear words. Ted asked me fourteen times while I cleaned the oven if he can have some sweets. Fifteen minutes after I had commenced cleaning the oven, I gave up the will to live and started weeping. My rubber gloves were wet inside and the floor was flooded. Trevor farted in a vain attempt to cheer me up. He knows how to make me happy. He also brought me sixteen mangy chewed dog toys to add to the carnage on the kitchen floor. Trevor, having sensed that I still wasn’t restored to my usual joyful self, then decided to potter about in some soil outside and created a fetching pattern of black paw prints on the flooded floor.
“How many more pages do I have to read before I can play on the Xbox Mummy”
“Nineteen darling”
“Waaaaah that’s not fair I hate reading”
“Make it twenty, you grumpy little arsehole” I muttered darkly.
In twenty one more hours it will still only be day two of the bastard school holidays. I have worked out that we have twenty two pounds a day to spend if we don’t want to actually run out of money before pay day. I have rescued twenty three Nerf gun bullets from Trevor’s mouth and asked Bella twenty four times to brush her teeth. I found twenty five odd socks on the floor of the utility room along with twenty six pairs of pants. I have been asked on no less than twenty seven occasions today if we can go to the park again but on bikes this time. Twenty eight times I have mopped the kitchen floor because Trevor likes to play with the contents of the recycling bin and the twenty nine items that were in the bottles and cans bag all had just a little bit of sticky shit still In them. Just enough of something sticky and messy so that when a small but energetic dog rips them apart something foul leaks onto the floor.
It’s now 3.29, at 3.30 I need to get my sorry arse out of Totes Towers to find something to eat for dinner tonight but I’m nodding off on the sofa whilst Trevor snores gently beside me and all is quiet with the three little shits. It’s the first time today that they’ve stopped twatting each other and shouting “MUMMY, MUMMY”

The piss up at the brewery went well but I would seriously advise against the drinking of large amounts of alcohol after Running thirteen miles. The day after isn’t very productive. I’ll be better tomorrow…….possibly.

You couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery

So the saying “you couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery” was coined when a mother of three unfortunate children decided to hold a Running event that ended with drinks at a brewery. She thought that it would be nice to have a jolly with her friends, then get pissed afterwards. How hard could it be?

Well the answer is really hard if you happen to be a thoroughly disorganised and chaotic individual like myself. I don’t think that I’ve ever really realised just how disastrous I am until quite recently. I can’t arrive anywhere on time, I don’t do cards of any description especially Christmas cards and I have little if ever, remembered any sort of appointment. This month alone, I have misread the date of Trevor’s operation and failed to turn up for it. I have forgotten that it’s half term next week (that could be a subconscious thing) and I have also had to do a mad dash to Home Bargains to procure three Halloween costumes on the eve before the Halloween disco. Today I announced loudly that I was “going to Asda to get myself some sweet Halloween costumes” at school pick up, only to be mocked by my contemporaries who explained that there were no costumes to be had in any supermarkets as they’d sold out.

“But it’s not fucking Halloween yet! There’s ten bastard days to go. How can they have sold out now?

I was given the look. The look that says “I’m glad that you’re such a fuck up. It makes me feel better about myself”

That’s just me. I am a fuck up. How did I think that I could organise a wee event in which people became inebriated at the point of source?

Well obviously I can’t. We have been let down by a well known retailer who was supplying the t shirts as the momento of our day out. Shall we say that they are the Ryan Air of sports retailers. They’re cheap but shit. I first placed forty Running tops in a virtual basket six weeks ago but I thought that I d wait until we had final numbers before committing. We thought that a week would be enough time. I let the printers know that the t shirts would be with them for Friday or earlier but they won’t be because they just didn’t turn up. We sort of knew that they wouldn’t. There wasn’t the usual email trail of “your order has been processed” and “your order has been dispatched”. There was simply “thank you for your money!”

Today we sorted a reliable person whom we should have just used in the first place but we were trying to keep costs down. She asked what sizes we needed and when I said “ooooh just a selection” she was onto me. I think that she’d already guessed that I was a disaster zone so she asked for the email addresses of our participants so that she could email the and ask their size.

You will not be surprised to hear that I didn’t have that information. I am so much worse than that though. On the original post in which I told the world about our event I asked that they email me their details. The Email address that I supplied for myself was my email address from ten years ago and no longer valid. I put bank account details on to transfer money to. They were the bank account details of somebody that I know but completely the wrong bank account details. I wondered how the fuck I could make such a massive mistake and then I did it again and invited somebody else to send their hard earned cash to somebody completely separate from the run.

I’m good at many things but I couldn’t organise a piss up up in a brewery. Luckily I’ve got nice friends that pick up the pieces.

Christmas party at Totes Towers? You think that I’m joking……I’m not. I just don’t fucking learn.

Trevor likes his soft collar better than his cone of shame. I think that it looks like a gurning ring.

Chin chin, up yer bum Mofos.

If you are coming to the piss up at the brewery, don’t worry, I’m better at getting pissed and dancing than organising stuff.

Ok, so last call for the “Run to the Piss up at the brewery”

Ok, so last call for the “Run to the Piss up at the brewery”

Why not get pissed and large it with me and the leggy personal trainers, Stacey the small prancing pony and lots of others mental fashion forward bitches.

On the 22nd October we are running a half marathon for the hardcore bitches or a 10k for the only slightly less hard bitches from the Stubborn Mule Brewery in Altrincham. The route is mainly off road for safety reasons.
When we return to the brewery, we can get pissed up on booze which is one of my favourite things to do. I’m not particularly talented at running but I make up for it with my drinking abilities. To be fair, I’m not that good at drinking. What I really excel at is making a twat of myself when I’m pissed.

The price for this amazing event is £30.
Included in the price is lunch, drinks and a t-shirt. All you’ll need is your taxi fair home.

Last time we held this event it got a bit messy but that’s because I was involved and I can’t see it being any different this time. The brewery owner was very nice but baulked at my wish to swim in the beer and photocopy my arse in the office. Instead we had a dance off, played hide and seek for a Lagenluxe dress and indulged in some mild debauchery. It was all good fun.
The coach home was fun.
Anyway, if you come alone, you will leave having made friends. We are a nice lot.

All abilities of runners welcome, even really good ones. We’ll send Dawn off with you if you are fast. Oooh and men can come too. I think that we had three brave souls last time. to secure a place. Kate’s got the money because I can’t be trusted.

I think that there may now be panic as to my behaviour on our trip to Spain

I met up with the school mums this morning at drop off and showed my bruises off from my day out on Sunday. Ruthless confessed that she sat with her seatbelt on whilst the coach drove us back fearing for our safety with 999 already pressed on her phone so that she just had to connect to the emergency services. Poor Ruthless also kept her head down so as to avoid being dragged up to dance. I think that there may now be panic as to my behaviour on our trip to Spain. No doubt there will be some nerves about my behaviour on a flight.

We will be discussing our next Running event on Friday. Does anybody have any ideas for a gin distillery somewhere close to Manchester?

Trousers Zara sale £6.99
T shirt M&S £25
Jacket Zara sale £60
Shoes Clarks sale £30. Can you believe that Clarks turned me down for affiliate advertising? The shock nearly killed me.

Look at this happy fashion forward bitch

And look at this happy fashion forward bitch. She won the Lagenluxe dress which was kindly donated. Being the forward thinking person that I am, I had come up with precisely nothing as a competition. I decided that we would have a plank off because it sounded funny and a bit like wank off. I then realised that the Amazonian personal trainers would defo win this and thought why reward them further? They are already slim and toned. That is reward in itself. They don’t need a new frock too. After more thought whilst drinking in the sun, it was decided that we should just play hide and seek for it.

Thank you to kind Tabitha at Lagenluxe. I was just going to steal the dress but then that’s not fair.

No – it’s no use, I’m an absolute arsehole

No – it’s no use, I’m an absolute arsehole.

As more time passes, more bruises are found.

I’ve got ouchy bits everywhere. The only good news is that Dangerous is commencing his get fit regime this evening so no doubt he will be as stiff and sore as me by tomorrow.

Who does gymnastics on coaches? At least the coach company can rest assured that their luggage shelves are very well attached.

Why oh why aren’t I classy?

I am currently playing a game in which i feel parts of my body to see if they are injured. If they are, I try to guess how said body part became injured.

Sharon middle aged is with me in Costa. She keeps telling me the horrific things that I did.

It would appear that most of the injuries were done when I put my legs in the luggage rack on the coach and hung upside down. Unfortunately I then fell on my head.

Why oh why aren’t I classy? I always have to go too far.

Thank you to all Shiny Brewery and to ABC coaches. Tony the driver was epic.

Thanks to Kate for doing all the boring admin bits. Thanks to Dawn for helping.

Thanks to everybody that came and thanks for getting me home last night Cath.