Last week my mom asked me if I was going to go home this weekend. At the time I was undecided - not that I particularly wanted to go, but also not that I had anything else planned.

That was until I knew Mr Em was in town. And his birthday is just one day after mine.

So, Saturday I now have a date.

I am also having my hair done Saturday morning.

Also, nephew won’t be home until the week after, and it would be nice for us all to go out for dinner together, rather than all of us except him. And on top of that, next week I should hear whether I have got that job or not, so hopefully I will have something big to celebrate.

This I explained to my mother when we spoke on Saturday.

So, why, then, did she ring me tonight, and her first question be “Are you coming home this weekend?” And coming up with lame reasons for me not to come the week after.

The last time she was so vague was last year, when she had breast cancer.

I have rung my sister, to ask her, and she says as far as she knows there is nothing wrong. But she will ask, and let me know. Because now I am scared to death.

This just sums up Britain.

Qoute of the day - “One spectator was given treatment after being hit by a runaway cheese.”

I always new it would taste fabulous, but somehow have just never gotten around to making it at home.

Today I did.

Houmous.

Oh god, it is *heavenly*.

Also made some nice smoked fish chowder.

And will be making some feta cheese and red pepper spread before bed time.

That’s most of this week’s food sorted out.

Obviously not Friday’s. Friday is eat myself stupid on cake, going out for lunch, and going out for dinner with LELI.

Friday is my birthday.

This just doesn’t do it for me.

After living here for over 18 months, today I finally made it here.

Long way to go, just to buy some card, stickers and colouring pens.

It was packed, had trouble finding a parking space, and then all the shops were heaving. But just not my sort of place. It’s probably great if you want names on what you buy. I don’t care. Why would I pay twice as much for something because it has a tiny label on it? That’s a bloody expensive label if you ask me.

Still, now been making some more ‘masculine’ cards, with Father’s Day around the corner, I am going to try and sell some more cards at work.

They are having a barbecue.

Under a big umbrella, however.

It smells wonderful.

ONB (after strict instrcutionfrom me ysterday, i think he put iti n his dairy) said to me ths mor5NGING “You look nice today Woman.”#

Spoiled by.

“shoes how little efort yuo normaly make”.

Arse.

It seemed to go well. Got asked some stupid questions about client-server experience (virtually non-existent, but then, it’s not like I will actually use it in the job), lied about my VB experience (said I had a little, when I have none, but then qualified it with “I am a programmer - once you can program in one language, you can program in any, it’s just a matter of syntax…” and think I got away with it.

The best bit was when they asked me what I thought the issues were at the moment. Ihad a field day, and everything I said was met with enthusiastic nods of agreement.

I will find out the week after next.

I am glad the weather was so cold today. I didn’t realise but my new suit trousers are fully lined - and of course they are not made from anything remotely natural. Also, my ‘easy care’ blouse looked like I had pulled it from the ragbag by lunchtime.

And my feet are *still* killing me, from wearing high heels all bloody day. And my ankle dun-alf ache!

At 3 o’clock.

I told Z today, but made the comment that it will be completely obvious, since while everyone else will be in jeans, I will be wearing my suit.

“Why?” he asked, looking completely puzzled.

“Of course I will be wearing my suit, it is an interview.”

He didn’t seem to get it.

LELI was sitting nearby, and overheard this. He started to kill himself laughing.

“This interview is with G, no? ‘Ave you seen-a ‘ow ‘e dresses?” Apparently, the manager who interviewed LELI for the job has since told him he was employed to try and instill some dress sense into G. And he admits he has failed!

Next year both my parents will be 70.

My dad has decided he wants to have a party to celebrate his.

A couple of weeks ago, when I spoke to my mom, she was up for going to NYC for her birthday (New Year’s Eve), and hanging around in Times Square to see the new year in. This I wasn’t too keen on - they really have no idea how cold it can get there, and it’s not all street parties. However, I could live with it - hang around with them until they go to bed, then head off to the favourite bar to hang out with my friends.

So. Just been speaking to my mom. “Did I tell you what we’re all doing for my birthday next year?” “Yes, we’re going to New York.” “Oh no, I’ve changed my mind now. We’re going to Florida, see the fireworks at Disney.”

Oh god.

Not again.

I have been on family holidays twice now to Florida. The first time was pretty good - although my mom couldn’t get her head around the fact I *waited* until 6 months before we went to book our flights, because obviously flights from the UK to Florida will be completely fully booked 12 months in advance. I only booked it so early because I got fed up of being asked twice a week if I had booked the flights yet.

It’s also a nightmare because my sister is a control freak. She has everything planned down to the last minute, and there is never any discussion about what we do, we all do it her way. My mom loves this - she wants everything planned down to the last detail, but can’t be bothered to do it herself.

Me? When I am on holiday, I want to do what I feel like, when I feel like it. If I think one day “You know what? I know I thought about going to X, but I think I will do Y instead because I feel like it.” My family can’t cope with this. They even objected to me and X having our own hire car when they had organised a 7 seater to take us all in. No way. No way in hell.

This time I won’t even have X as emotional support when dealing with the family. I wonder if LELI fancies a trip to the States…. now that would put the cat among the pigeons!