It's the night before Bertie's 9th birthday, and I can hear drunken singing coming from down the corridor where his bedroom is- I thought it would be a lovely thing to open a bottle of champagne with my two elder boys, and toast the forthcoming year as a 9 year old. They only had a minute glass full, but already I am questioning how sensible that was. It's rare for me to suddenly feel like a drink, but after a week of half term, I really did feel like several glasses of something.
The book has been going well in the last 2 week, and I have sold that first batch of 2000 books, and received the second batch of another 2000. I braved a fair held at school, and for 2 days stood at my stall looking very uncomfortable, and really wanting to shoot a lot of the public. Some were charming, others were just rude. As I mentioned to one, " money from every sale is going to Cancer Research" a lady piped back " That would be the only reason I would be buying the book anyway". Ok then. I do wish people just chose to share kind comments. One lady made a face as if to say " Who cares ? " when I told her it had been number 7 on Amazon's best sellers list for quick and easy meals. Put straight back in my box. It's a very certain strong type of person that is good at selling at a fair, and I really am not one of them. I have a lot of sympathy and admiration for those that sell at fairs, they are shattering.
Half term was spent pottering at home with a visit to my closest friend who has just had her 3rd. We were discussing her father in law whom I adore, and she told me the story of how he had been helping out with the school runs since she had given birth. The school had just rung her though enquiring as to why her son, Ned, should be behaving so oddly that morning. After speaking to her father in law, it became clear that he had stopped at a petrol station and bought Ned a 2nd breakfast of Harribo Fangastics, and a Lucozade Sport which he had guzzled down with joy. When Ned got to school and tried to sit down for his spelling test, he was having difficulties with a dramatic sugar rush, to concentrate or sit still for a second. I love that story and still laugh now as I type it down.
I feel like we have entered the depths of autumn suddenly, and the last leaves are falling off the trees, and plants are dying back. Time for some warming stews, not exactly 10 minutes of cooking time, but perhaps 10 minutes of prep, for a glorious supper to be enjoyed a few hours later. This week is about Bertie's birthday tomorrow, followed by the book launch the next day in London. Just a quiet week then.