She's Back

Night out with former council colleagues cancelled due to Tess arriving home and Dave's flirtation with the winter vomiting bug overnight. But as for the main act, Tess' return from Glorious Glenshee....... well its only been a week but I swear she looked older and taller when I first caught sight of her off the bus. Then she started speaking......it's totally bizarre but she has come home talking with a pronounced Scottish burr when she speaks the letter R, like a tweedy pants character from Take the High Road. She hasn't noticed but I'm having to stop myself smiling in a deranged way because she sounds like Mrs Mac or the late, lamented Susie Sweet from Balamory. I like it and hope it doesn't wear off too soon.

She's showered, trust me, she needed one. She's also been treated to a Dominoes pizza delivery.

The week's clothes and other bits and bobs squeezed into the borrowed bag from Granda were surprisingly not that unpleasant when I gingerly unzipped it, and the only major mishap (that I know of anyway) seems to be that she misplaced her purse for the main shopping expedition and had to be subbed.

As to why she bought mascara, I guess that is a universal mystery only fathomable to a 10 year old girl or perhaps more simply explained as....."because my friend bought one". Who even knew Braemar did mascara? Or sticks of Rock, which is what Dave and I were the lucky *cough* recipients of.

I get the feeling little Mrs Mac didn't take to skiing like a duck to water, but did have a great time being away from the daily grind and with friends. I've had a couple of hours of stories so far, but thankfully only a fleeting mention of a "she said, me said" story which suggests it really was a very, very good week.

Off piste adventures seem to have been taken in her stride from the visit to the mountain rescue, to the ghost stories (never accept hospitality from a fingerless woman in a mountain bothy) to the pesky disco music keeping her awake, to the bus driver to the names of the slopes.

Meanwhile Sam has recovered from being woken up in the wee small hours by his Dad doing what can only be described a thrash metal vomit, poor Sam rushed through to make sure he was okay, while I lazily lolled in bed shouting sam he was fine and not to worry. That boy is a carer. I'm a .....sloth. Thankfully all is looking much better all round tonight. Family all present and correct, fluffballs fed and watered.