Decapitation & Poo

I traveled back to Hertfordshire to have my boys for the weekend, on Friday. The journey was unremarkable save my handbrake failing when I was parked in the services grabbing a coffee. My van had rolled back out of the space I was parked in, across the road and into another space where it came to rest against the kerb. All neat and everything!

I came out of the food court and stopped, staring at an empty space. For a few moments, I thought my van had been nicked. But alas, there it was, parked over there. I felt weird. Weird in that my van being in the space that it was in just didn’t feel right. Something was off. As I walked over to Garry (yes I know, but that’s what happens when you let your kids name stuff!) a guy shouted over from his car “did you notice that’s not where you left it?” I was like “What mate?” He repeated himself, to which I replied “He has his own mind guv. He probably didn’t like it there”.

The rest of the road trip (I call it a road trip so the journey back and forth across the country doesn’t become too unappealing) went well, and I surprised the boys by picking them up from school. Although I did have a little trouble standing on the designated dot in the playground, unsocially distanced from the other parents. The inner deranged child in me detested the instructions given and I found myself continuously stepping off and away from the dot, as if silently saying a little fuck you to your rules! But in the end the grown up also inside me (there’s only the two of us inside me, I’m not mental guys!) won the game of fuck you and I stayed put on the dot for the remainder of the wait.

The kids were excited to see me and for our 3 day adventure ahead. Things were going to be a little different this time as we were staying on my mums drive in the van. A test of my patience lay ahead, as the youngest was in a pretty awful “Am I fuck gonna do what I’m told this weekend” mood. I could tell straight away this was going to be a testing time by the barrage of argumentative questions that were hurled at me. Argumentative questions are those that are asked with a multiple choice answer but the questioner doesn’t like your choice of answer and argues the case until until they receive the answer that suits them. Here’s an example:

“Yes Brayden?”
“Oh erm... erm... shall I sleep on the top bunk or the bottom with you?”
“Definitely the top mate.”
“But I don’t want to sleep on the top. I want to sleep on the bottom. I hate the top bunk. It’s boring up there. I want to sleep on the bottom! I need a poo. Can I have a biscuit? I’m thirsty. I don’t want a biscuit now. Is dinner ready? What time is dinner? I need a poo still. I’m hungry. How long until we get there because I’m bored.”
“Brayden, please sit back so I can do your seatbelt up” *thought running through my head “I wonder if stuffing socks in your own child’s mouth is illegal. Yeah nah, best not, just in case.”

Saturday comes around and we head for the awesome local park. It’s the best kiddies park I’ve ever seen in my life! I even had fun on some of the shit in there! Although I discovered I was too fat for the zip line and my arse hit the ground several times resulting in loud cruel laughter from the crowd around it. We head back to the van for some lunch after a couple of hours where I proceeded to shut my 7 year olds head in the sliding door, rather nastily cutting his neck and almost decapitating him. As I stepped in the van after chucking the rubbish in my mums wheelie bin, I backhanded slid the door across at the precise moment he decided to look out the doorway. The door didn’t make that usual whacking clunk noise as it hit home. It just made a soft weird flumpf sort of sound and slowly slid back past me again. I looked round wondering what sorcery had occurred and there was Marshall all gagging and wide eyed making stupid choking noises. I thought he was pissing around at first but as it happens, he wasn’t... A quid says he won’t do that again... “I need a poo” was all Brayden said but his eyes were gleeful at the sight of his brother turning purple.

This morning, spurred on by the scent of dead people lingering around in the van and “I need a poo” I took full advantage of being on my mums drive and emptied my portaloo down her drain, much to the boys disgust. They insisted on watching as 15 litres of shit and cherry scented slurry was whooshed and splattered down the hole, accompanied by many squeals and gags and screams of horror. They’ll be having nightmares over that tonight.

After I dropped them back at their mums at midday, I popped to Asda to top up on supplies and my van did it’s parking space swap trick again. The rear pads and discs are being changed Tuesday and the mot is also being done. Hopefully it won’t want for anything else. I’m praying it doesn’t. I’m pretty fucked if it does as I’ve not the money for any other work. Put it this way, I was almost a victim of bank fraud except when they saw how little I had in my account they felt so sorry for me they actually stuck a fiver in there! The reference said “don’t worry, we’ll get it back with interest another day”

Enough waffling from me, except I’ll leave you with this thought:

If you don’t step out of your comfort zone and do something extraordinary, then you’ll never find what you never knew you were looking for.

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