Monday 20th June

As much fun as chewing my nails and pacing around the sitting room would have been yesterday, I decided to join my parents on the final leg of their ‘Round-Britain-Local-Show-Challenge’.

I think my mother fancies herself as the country fete version of Simon Cowell. Her primary mission is to grade the quality of food tents, displays and knick-knack-type-offerings available at these events.

Don’t be fooled by her softly spoken, charmingly-flustered exterior; my parents have clipboards, Powerpoint slide shows, charts, dates, times, weather conditions and showground maps of competing events.

They’re the Hunter-Welly wearing, ‘blend-in-then-quiz-each-exhibitor-on-their-chosen-field-of-experience-until-we-ask-them-something-so-stupid-they-can’t-answer-it-then-triumphantly-complain-about-them-the-whole-way-home’, visitors from hell.

We saw tractors, combine harvesters, caravans, pigs, cows, ducks, geese, sheep, ‘orses, classic cars, sheep shearing, show jumping and a Falconry display (Mum got very excited when one of the hawks disappeared into the distance instead of flying around the arena like it was supposed to. I saw her cheerfully whip out her red pen and enter a cross in the ‘Getting birds of prey to do what it says on the programme’ check-box).

Annabelle went on every ride available and the Teenager spent the whole time in the food-court moving from stall to stall sampling the free stuff they either offered willingly, or were badgered into giving him by virtue of his lurking around behind their booth, looking threatening and frightening away any other potential custom.

Both kids sick in car on way home, different causes but end result still me having to rub shoulders, hold hair back and murmur supportively whilst being whipped off my feet every two seconds by passing juggernauts, London-bound on the A1.

Discovered three missed calls from Handsome-Rob when I got home.

On the up-side though, did then manage to get my own back on kids who spent the next hour and a half rubbing my shoulders, holding my hair back and murmuring supportively.

Still undecided. Still don’t know what to do. I don’t know if he has seen himself in the mirror lately, but I sure got a good look.

On the other hand, maybe he’s calling because he noticed that my road-tax expired on 31 May.

You know what the Feds are like.

To call back or not to call back?

That, is the question.

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