Apparently confession is good for the soul. And while I don’t have anything half as interesting as Iris Robinson to fess up to, I thought it might be time to get a few things off my chest. Just see it as part of my New Year- new me drive and I’ll live with the risk that you might all just start looking shifty and edging away from me. On the other hand, I might find I’m not alone and that we all feel better for a bit of honesty.
Here goes with the things that currently make me feel guilty:
On the way back from yoga on Saturday I bought just one fresh cheese twist from the Co-op and scoffed it all in the car.
Sometimes when the someone says “mummy” it makes me want to scream.
Sometimes at bedtime I put whisky in my tea.
There are lots of words I can’t spell and, as a some-time sub-editor, I really ought to be able to. I have learned to cheat.
I love it when I have a shift at the newspaper I occasionally appear at. I get to wear clothes that don’t have sick on them and to have a whole conversation.
Mostly, I find politics boring.
I have a thing about Tim Roth and James McAvoy.
Once I scraped my car against another one in the car park, but no one was watching so I drove off.
I’m getting lazier at housework and mostly only clean the bits people will see when there are people to see them.
I only go for a bath when I’ve got a good book I want to get on with, the whole lying in water thing doesn’t actually do much for me.
I have sometimes sent the kids to school dosed with Calpol when they were probably too poorly to go because I had work to do.
While I love my family dearly, most days there are times when I wish they’d just bugger off and leave me alone for a while.