The last three days have been entirely consumed by wrangling with the vendor of the home we would like to call our own. Pre-motherhood I have to admit to having a bit of a potty month. As mentioned historically my hubby has military roots and you geninely have not heard swearing until you’ve spent time with the forces. Officer or squaddy no matter. Since bearing the babe I have got better but this weeks events have caused me to slip.
(I also have to admit to sounding like a true Geordie slag after 10pm on a Tuesday night. The new series of Geordie Shore is in full swing and whilst my usual accent is only slight it is ressurected and treated to a big dollop of bad language after I’ve been subjected to the true Geordies).
Anyway, several sleepness nights later we have managed to secure the house. Whilst we have paid far more than was our original intention I am over the moon. The hubby however has been repeatedly chanting the worst of all swear words at the air, in place of the miserable old man whose house we have bought. None of this took place in front of the babe who I can confirm is in the safe hands of the non-potty-mouthed childminder for the day.
On to cheaper and less stressful matters. I am off to ladies day at the races next weekend and am woefully unprepared. Pre-babe I would have spent weeks selecting a dress for a smart occassion but as it stands I have just over a week and very little money. A little route around in the last of the sales has however yielded this beauty. Whistles Dress