Mother's Day

Monkey's gig turned out to be a strange one. Luke turned up late so we ended up missing the first half, the audience were few in numbers and not very enthusiastic, and Jeff the sound man decided to crack onto me. I'm always a sucker for flattery, so agreed that he could tag along back to Penzance with us. Promises to show him the bright lights didn't really come to fruition, despite the dab of mdma. The dock was busy, and so was the pool table. The studio bar was also pretty busy, and so was the pool table. Decided to go to the Bosun's to see The Barnaby Ray Quartet, but apparently they'd split up on the Weds. so the gig was cancelled. Wandered round the harbour for a bit as kind of buzzing, but eventually wended our way back to mine.

Think I must've been talking about the trek as Jeff helped get the dvd player working so that we could watch the film of it. Eerie, seeing it again nearly a year since I did it. Sad to think Graham was never interested/never bothered to watch it, but there I was tucked up naked in bed, with a virtual stranger re-living those amazing 3wks. Life. Was nice to have a bed buddy (even if the sex was crap, and the morning after a tad awkward when the kids came down for breakfast). Not that I feel embarrassed or anything, just don't like them to think that their mother's a slag, cos I'm not.

Just lonely.

Ended up having a bit of a lie-in which is always nice, and ate croissants in bed which was rather decadent. Transpired, that Jeff knows Beth – now how freaky is that? And that she and Graham went to see a Monkey's gig together 5 weeks previous. Small world indeed, given that Jeff lives up in Somerset near to Cheddar. But he said he knew her from the days when they both lived in Mullion, on the Lizard, some nine years ago. Beth would've been 16 then.

Heidi rang to say she was coming to pick us up, so had a mad dash panic to get our stuff ready for her birthday overnighter. Drive there squashy, but uneventful, so we soon had the all the gear unloaded and the 3 kayaks and the Canadian canoe quayside by the King Harry Ferry. With the nine of us it took two crossings – two people paddling the canoe back with the three empty kayaks tied behind. Was pretty exciting paddling across – really fun. A brilliant thing to be doing for your birthday. Might have to plan a mini adventure for mine (certainly beats just going to the pub). By the time us second lot got there, they'd already lit the fire and piled all the kit in the cottage. The rest of the day was spent setting up camp, wooding, fishing (unsuccessfully), playing about with the kayaks, having a bbq and generally just chilling.

And it was chilly – bloody freezing. A really bitter wind, but thankfully the fire made it bearable.
Eventually we went inside where we lit a fire in the wood stove as well, and with dozens of night lights around the room, the room was transformed, becoming incredibly cosy.

I was a bit of a lightweight though. The warmth, the wine, the spliffs, made staying awake an impossibility, so me and the little kids headed upstairs to bunk down, leaving Rosie and the others to carry on and play cards. Slept like a log, but the others weren't so fortunate.

The cottage is allegedly haunted, with a long tradition of paranormal events having taken place. At one time it was even exorcised by the Bishop of Truro. There were reports of devil writing continually appearing on the walls, despite having been painted over several times, as well as ghost sightings. Poor Heidi didn't sleep a wink, hearing loud bangs and creepy noises all night long.

Blue sky and sunshine in the morning – to begin with at least. More fires to be lit to make breakfast and coffee. We mucked around playing games, dodging the hailstones before de-camping and setting back off in the canoes. The return paddle was exhausting – straight into the wind. Was tempted to just give up and drift back down river, but that wouldn't have made me very popular. Was my turn to have the wet one – the one where your arse gets soaked the minute you're in it – so a far from pleasant experience all round.

Heidi gave us a lift back to our house – having been out of signal, I picked a text up from G telling me the damage for the car repairs: £50 parts and £160 labour. Fucking great. So by the time I pay for another MOT and tax, I'll have spent £300 on a shit car. Heidi suggested I call a friend of hers to get a quote/rough idea on how much fixing the Escort would be, as I'd rather spend £200 on getting that back on the road than this shitty little car. So fed up with the stress and headache of it all.

Once back home, the rest of Mother's Day was hijacked by laundry, cleaning, hoovering and cooking. Dullsville. Played a family game of nominations,the crawled under my duvet to try and get warm. Bitter cold tonight and seem to have spent most of it shivering.

Part-way through blogging, and Graham turns up – wanting to know whether I'd got his message (desperate keen for some money more like it). Strange conversation talking about car shit, when really I should've been talking to him about how shitty he's been to me. Think I'll instigate that topic once all this car business is well and truly dusted. Couldn't believe it when he walked over to me as he was leaving to kind of give me a cuddle/stroke my back – now what the hell is that all about? Should've slapped him one. Instead, I very prudely said, 'please don't do that'.

Gutted to have left my book in Heidi's van – really fancy reading a few chapters of Into Thin Air
around about now. Bugger. Will just have to go to sleep now instead.