Faulty Towers day in The Falklands

I have had one of those days that I am quite glad will end in an hour. It started with a phonecall from my mum this morning while I was trying to get the children ready for school.  It was lovely to talk to her but not the best time. The half hour between 8am and 8.30am is very fraught.  Any little thing can make me freak out and roar my head off.  Not getting uniform on is a major annoyance, not being able to find school shoes, or gym kit, or swimming goggles, or a hair band or homework bag.  Do not even get me started on packed lunches. On really bad days my son likes putting his pants on his head and dancing around the living room.  My daughter likes to get all her art stuff out and draw pictures or make things while sitting chilling in her dressing gown?



The end came when they tried to write me notes and ask me questions while I was on the phone.  We all have our limits.

We have two phones in our house, a military line and an outside line.  An actual line to the outside world courtesy of Cable and Wireless at £1 per minute.  One where we can talk to people who do not live in The Falklands.  It is amazing.  Every time I talk on the outside line I feel like an old person using a telephone for the first time looking into the receiver and wondering how it all works. I have actually forgotten how to use a mobile phone and please can someone tell me what an Ipad is. I have an Ipod but I am sick of the same songs because I cannot work out how to put new ones on and take old ones off.

I spent 3 minutes listening to some not so soothing music this morning trying to get hold of a company in the UK.  They were very sorry that all lines were busy and I was on hold.  They were not as sorry as I was believe me.

I then rushed to work and two hours later realised that I had the car keys that my husband needed to go on his Elephant Seal hunting trip 4 hours cross country.  He did get hold of another set of keys and took 239 photos that are now clogging up my computer.  I have 40 photos of a Heron.

My evening has got slightly better.  The delicious joint of Falklands beef that I put in the fridge yesterday to defrost was not quite defrosted but I cooked it anyway.  I just prodded the frozen bit in the middle and cooked it for hours and after two glasses of red wine I am still alive and well.  Tonight we drank two bottles of expensive wine (by this I mean over my usual Chilean £2) and they tasted very good. I am almost in a good mood.  Almost. I have taken to sulking.  A new tactic that is quite an effort. I have to remember to not smile and look aloof and gloomy.  I do not think it will last. I can't actually remember why I started doing it. I think I might just return to my old self.  I like that one better.

I will try to roar less and rationalise more but with the big move back to the UK in 7 weeks I have a lot of stresses.  There are forms looming everywhere and I need to find a black biro.  I think we only have pink felt tips that are all dried up.  I am going to have to drive on a road with traffic.  I am going to have to pay full price for petrol and I am going to have to queue for things because there are a lot of people in the UK.  There will be litter.

I am not sure that I am ready to be integrated back into UK society.  Life on the outside out of the bubble. Shall I sulk or smile...We will have to wait and see.