Totes Amuse Bouche*

A week on call followed by a weekend away with the Urban Family followed by yet more time on call followed by another weekend away for Easter = not blogging for ages and feeling very bad indeed.

08:01, Friday 22nd March. A sense of blessed relief as I switched off my work phone and made sure to leave it behind as I hitched up my wagon and headed for Centre Parcs for a long weekend with the gang. And what a weekender it was.

  • I had a pelvic examination by a stranger in the rapids as we got tangled together in an undercurrent and ended up getting swept round and round in circles unable to separate ourselves whilst giggling so hard. 
  • We learnt that an unnamed (female, Welsh) Urban thinks that Elton John sings about ‘Betty and the Jets’ and that the lyrics to ‘White Christmas’ are “Mayonnaise, Mayonnaise, Mayonnaise be merry and bright” (there are no words)
  • Chappers compared himself to Jesus and was rebuffed as we pointed out that Jesus could walk on water whereas Chaps can’t even float.
  • We argued playing the Logo game (AGAIN)
  • Some of the team went and competed in the ‘Urban Family Hunger Games’ by doing field archery, with only one able to come back the victor. Frankie managed to steal the win for Team Baby Chalet, but failed to come home with anyone’s bloodied head on a spike.
  • Cornflake and Chopper Boy got outclassed in their Man Test by a little girl who managed to spend longer in the freezing cold plunge pool than them combined. They did get a few extra points for some rather creative swearing, Chopper Boy went for ‘Mother Truckers’ whereas Cornflake knocked it out of the park by screeching ‘Phillip Schofield that’s cold!’ as he hit the water.
  • Loulabella decreed that my headstone will say ‘Long Tall Ally, right sock first, killed by own duvet’.
  • Totes became the word of the weekend, much to the annoyance of Frankie. Over our final meal when he jokingly said ‘the next person who says totes is getting a punch in the face’, I’m afraid three of us couldn’t resist the urge to drop the T-Bomb in his face. Such children.
  • Chappers ate a double double burger and got span round in a big washing machine without being sick whilst Mg unleashed her inner giggling child dashing about in the adventure playground.
  • We discovered that I am even more uncoordinated whilst being flung down the rapids. I elbowed Loulabella in the boob, straddled Cornflake over half the course and in a startling display of talent managed to force Chopper Boy to head butt me in the VAGINA by slamming into him at speed whilst he was trying to pull up his trunks.
  • We ate a LOT of baked goods. Two birthday cakes, home-made millionaire’s shortbread, cornflake cakes and rocky road. The latter seeming appropriate to eat when the babies woke up, i.e. bloody early in the morning.
  • We also drank a lot of wine and beer and did a lot of laughing and it was a totally wonderful weekend, even if I did go home battered, bruised, scratched and in dire need of a holiday to recover!
  • I learnt my favourite new phrase (courtesy of Chopper Boy) which I need to weave in to conversation


*No, I don’t know what it means either, but it was amusing to take ‘totes’ to the next level of annoyance.


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