My family.

It has to be said, family visits for me aren’t like what I imagine other people’s family visits to be. Mine are sedate and tense and often a little bit forced. As much as I love to see and spend time with my family, when I leave, I always feel a slight sense of relief and the funny thing is, I suspect they do also. Does anyone else have this? My friend Anita always has a blast with her parents when they go away…well, always might be a tad of an exaggeration, but they often sit up drinking together, exchanging stories and having a chuckle (as long as pre-marital sex isn’t mentioned, or politics).

With my lot, I suppose most of this boils down to the fact that my parents and my family in general simply aren’t that chilled out. In fact, my mum looks like a rabbit caught in the headlamps most of the time, with little flushed cheeks and a terrified glint in her eye. This means that when we talk I often avoid looking her in the eye not because I’m feeling guilty, but because with mum, I can see behind the little tight forced smiles and pursed lips and clammy hands and see someone struggling terribly with mental illness. And if I look her in the eye, well, I might just burst into tears.

So, the net result of time with my parents is a mixture of sadness…it’s quite tough to get your head around parents who yo-yo between togetherness and separation every few months, and worry, that things just aren’t as they should be. On the upside, mum and dad are at the moment, travelling to the Isles of Scilly together for mum’s 60th bday treat, and so I suppose that’s a massive positive. I just hope things can continue on an even keel for a while.

The family visit pretty much dominated the entire weekend, but Steve and I had a nice evening together last night…me watching Thelma and Louise in bed and him in an entirely separate room watching the football highlights. I think I have finally grasped the concept of cohabitation…space. This is going to be a steep learning curve for us as for the next month, I have officially moved in- yes my season ticket has expired, I’m skint and I hate going on the trains. I’m allergic to them now. This means I have an Ali drawer in the cupboard, plus about 6 inches of space inside the wardrobe and room in the shoe rack for a couple of pairs of shoes (into which I have fitted 7 pairs). It also means I have to be a good and dutiful girlfriend as I’m staying rent free, which opens me up for all kinds of violations and unfair demands….I’ll keep you posted.

I was highly amused to see over on Jonathan’s blog, news of the evening we all spent at the snapper. He claims to have some photos of me and Anita (well, claims isn’t really true, he has got them I’ve seen them) looking like ‘Harridans’ which to be fair is probably a little too kind. We look like hags. Go on J, publish them, lets have a damn good laugh at my expense…if you can’t do that, then what’s the point! I know I’m gorgeous, sometimes, not in the morning, or in photos, or during/after exercise, or in my summer clothes, or most of the time.