Skip to main content

YLM back on the blog

OK. This is how it went down.

Finished work on Friday, as in - FINISHED work on Friday. Yup, my last day... for ever. Feels weird but good.

Friday night was spent packing bags for all of us in advance of holidays. Finally finished, perspiring slightly, powered up the laptop to find I couldn't get online. Cue major panic, cursing and some diagnostic stuff. End result is that Virgin broadband was down in our area and I was up creek sans paddle. IF YOU'RE READING THIS VIRGIN THANKS A BLOODY BUNCH... I hold you entirely responsible for the fact that I couldn't blog or print out my boarding pass for my flight the next day, which left me seething in a hideous Heathrow check-in queue for over an hour. Gah. W*nkers.

So the kids and Alpha motored off to France early Saturday morning, leaving me waving tearfully on the doorstep. Sad and lonely, I pootled on to Heathrow (scene of aforementioned chaos) to catch my flight to LA, then to catch another flight to Fresno - which is where I am typing from this very second. Exciting, huh? For those who don't know, I am a British/American hybrid with loads of family in Fresno, the fruitbowl of the universe (or something along those lines).

So hopefully you will get a load of posts from Fresno, where I'll be for a week, then back to London and on to France, where I'll be spending the rest of the summer with the kids. Bliss. If only Alpha could be there for the whole time too, but as I am now wilfully unemployed it's probably a good thing one of us can bring in a paycheck. Oops.

Anyway, the tally over my days of absence (hmm, nothing but a $ key on my aunt's MacBook, assume in GBP unless otherwise informed):

Friday - spent absolutely NOTHING! How impressive (and rare) is that?
Saturday -packet of crisps from vending machine, 80p; Diet Coke 99p; two books for the flight 13.98 -
total cost of 15.77 (unless you count the cost of my insanely expensive transatlantic flight...but let's not go there)

Which takes me to a total for the week of 128.46 GBP. Which sounds great until you factor in the basic expenses of 241.58 which leaves our bank for all the bills and stuff - see the complete breakdown here - plus the mortgage, income tax etc etc blah. Which leads me to the conclusion that you need to be a squillionaire to actually, properly enjoy living in London. Otherwise is bleaksville all the way, baby.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Hi Fresno!
How hot is it there now?
Can you still fry an egg on the sidewalk?
Kate B. said…
Hi anon,

It's up to around 110 - not tried the egg thing (hygiene issues, eiew) but I think it would be entirely possible.

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...