A belated happy Valentine’s to you, dear readers. I hope you had fun, whatever you got up to and whoever it was with.
This year we had a lack of funds thanks to our recent American trip, so decided to try to make the best of it without spending too many pennies.
We opted for one drink at the pub before ordering in a pizza – a relatively modest outlay, one would think, until you factor in the wedges, nachos, garlic bread and chicken wings (for Matt, not me) that accompanied the pizza. All right then, two pizzas.
I know, how greedy. I felt completely cheesed out and ended up sprawling across the sofa in agony. Not quite the modest and cheap Valentine’s night we’d planned.
The day hadn’t got off to the best of starts, so I really should have quit whilst I was ahead.
I decided to spend some time with my niece and nephew – Hollie, who is two, and six-month-old Lewie.
But as I’m not a mother, I made the mistake of waking them up once we’d arrived at the park – something I instantly regretted.
I’d planned a fun day of walking along the shore at Stamshaw, winding up in the park. But whilst trying to soothe Lewie back to sleep in his pram, I had to contend with Hollie who, not best pleased at being woken up from her dreamy sleep, was hardly in the mood for walking.
Intead she insisted on ‘cuddles’ – aka beijng carried – all the way around the beach before revealing that she needed the toilet.
Panic stricken as we were miles from home – and a toilet – I picked her up and ran through the park, wheeling Lewie in his pram.
Then to top it all off, it started to hail. ‘Auntie Chezzy, I need a wee wee’ were the desperate pleas from my poor niece.
Petrified she was going to wee all over me, I ran all the way to the car where I loaded the children in before noticing a big, smelly brown patch on my freshly-washed orange jumper.
The pram wheels, which were now in the recently-valeted car, were covered in dog muck.
I will remember this year’s Valentine’s Day – if only for all the wrong reasons.