7 years bad luck...

I am so flippin soaked it's unreal. Just been wrestling with a new mirror in a car park after an incident yesterday that nearly landed me in hospital.

I'd gone shopping with my mum to get some tricorn hats, policemen's helmets, cutlasses, grey knee high socks, truncheons and fake gold dubloons. No, I am not becoming some sort of village based gangsta rapper, but was trying in vain to ensure that the props department of our junior department's end of year production was correctly stocked.
It was this that had me in the top shop changing rooms almost making my mum bust a rib with laughter as I came out of the changing rooms wearing a topshop babydoll dress finished off with a Johnny Depp style Pirate's of the caribbean tricorn hat.
It was slightly embarrassing though as I thought the changing rooms were empty, as they had been when we went in, but unfortunately came out, flinging the curtain open dramatically (complete with plastic telescope) shouting, "Ahoy there landlubbers - bring me the rum me hearties!" to not just my mum but also a group of rather glamorous ladies posing in hotpants. Oh well, you never know, I may have started a new trend and everywhere I go soon will be awash with gold dubloon encrusted micro shorts topped off with a pirate's hat.

After I'd packed away my cutlass and fake eye patch, I ended up buying a new suit for work as well as a really nice vest top to go with my new hotpants from last week.

We got absolutely soaked on the way round town though as I fear that our local area has swapped climates with a small caribbean island in monsoon season. We dashed into New Look for a bit of shelter and it was in here that I almost got a slap off some random girl.

I was just trying on a really cool swing poncho style coat on the floor of the main shop when I spun round to show my mum. I don't know how I did it but I managed to swing my hand into someone's crotch. I turned to apologise and realised it was not a woman but the only flippin male in the whole shop. A rather tall man was now bent double near the rack of wedge espadrilles.
I'm not sure how it happened, but as I had swung round for my "ta da" moment, I had swung my fist into the poor guy's family jewels. He was spluttering and hanging on to the shoe rack for support (where I spotted a pair of silver wedges that I fell immediately in love with and subsequently bought so maybe it was fate's way of directing me to gorgeous footwear).

I apologised profusely and, for the second time in the space of 15 mins, my mum was in hysterics. I was just trying to help the poor guy up when his girlfriend appeared from nowhere. She did not see the funny side at all of my impromptu grope of his tackle in the ladies shoes department and started trying to drag the poor guy away. He wasn't looking where he was going as he was too busy clinging onto the bruised contents of his boxers and tripped over my bag of pirates gear.
This meant that for the second time that morning, my telescope made an unexpected appearance and my gold dubloons rolled away under the stand full of stilletoes. I had to then spend the next 10 minutes on my stomach retrieving hundreds of plastic gold coloured pirates booty whilst everyone else just tried on glam things and got on with the exhausting business of being normal. To add further insult to my degrading morning, my bloody mother got bored waiting for me to emerge from under the shopfittings and so began to browse through the shoes herself. However, she pulled out a shoe from the rack and got the straps all ravelled up in some kind of shoe tsunami so that just as I managed to squeeze myself out from under the display cabinet, a rogue slingback was dropped from 4 feet high onto my ruddy head. Cheers mum.

My mum then felt bad that she'd almost concussed her only daughter with a two inch heel and helped me to pull my telescope out from under a rack of bikinis where it had rolled after the psycho girlfriend had kicked it out of the way and we repacked all of my accoutrements and made a swift exit. (after paying for my rather fabulous new shoes though!)

We went for lunch at a local restaurant and I had a chat with mum about trainer boy. I told her what he'd said and that I was really worried about what everyone would think and about how I really felt. She said that there was no reason I shouldn't have a, "gentleman friend" (not sure why my mum chose this particular moment to turn into an extra from a BBC victorian period drama) but that I shouldn't get into anything serious. I nearly choked on a piece of egg at her next comment though as she said that she knew supertwat had stopped sleeping with me in early February and she said that I should, "ensure I had a bit of fun and that my needs were met, otherwise I'd turn into a bitter, grumpy old madam". After I had removed the piece of egg from my windpipe, I just giggled to myself that my mum had gone from BBC drama to, "Loose women" in two sentences.

Mum paid for lunch and headed back through the tropical storms and back home. I got back to find my dad fixing my front door where my brother broke it down when I was admitted to hospital. It was taking him hours and the poor bloke had had to fit a complete new lock, architrave and rehang the door. (It's been screwed shut since my brother shouldered it open).
I was planning to have a kip but due to all the hammering, sawing and swearing, there was no way that was going to happen. I was just about to give up and go back to my parents' when my phone rang. It was the dodgy scouser from ages ago telling me he was moving back to Liverpool this weekend. I agreed to meet him for a coffee at our local "Borders" and we had a really nice time over a coffee and camomile tea. He was utterly charming and said that he really regretted not taking the time to get to know me better and that he was gutted he was going home as he'd been thinking about me loads recently. I felt so much better after this conversation as he'd made me feel a little bit like a piece of meat as his previous messages had all been a bit too flirty and rude for someone he hardly knew.
I helped him to choose some new education books (he's a teacher too) and we said goodbye in the car park.
He texted me later to say that he thought I was beautiful and that he'd miss me. It was with this message that something odd happened.

I suddenly felt like I was cheating on trainer boy.

I just didn't want to be receiving texts like this from someone. A coffee to say goodbye to someone who was moving away and to wish them well was one thing but receiving messages asking me to meet up because he fancied me were quite another.

I sat in my car for ages just thinking about what my mum had said, what my best mate had said and how the dodgy scouser had made me feel. I also calculated that by now, supertwat had stopped sleeping with me and been being horrible to me over me two and half times longer than we'd actually been "normally" married and that he'd now been gone longer than our "normal" marriage now aswell. Seems weird that I've now spent much longer being "single" again than we were actually "married". I think it was the combination of all of these things that made me make the next phone call.

I called trainer boy and was so relieved to hear his voice. He was so pleased to hear from me and we arranged for me to go over to his flat later and go out for dinner. I was actually really excited getting ready to see him as I'd really missed speaking to him after his revelation.

I arrived at his flat after being hit on by some gypsies on the petrol station forecourt (never buy petrol in hotpants) and was blown away by how he looked. Gone were his usual tracksuit bottoms and training top and he was dressed in a gorgeus pair of jeans and a really cool shirt and shoes. He'd had his hair cut and looked absolutely gorgeous.

We were just about to leave to go to the restaurant when I heard TB go, "Oh f***ing hell". I turned round and saw a middle aged couple waving like mad and coming up the stairs. His parents had turned up to drop off some coving for TBs decorating and so I ended up having to spend the next half an hour chatting to his mum and dad on the sofa and regretting wearing something quite so short.

His parents were absolutely lovely people though and TB had obviously been speaking to them about me as they seemed to know loads of information. It's funny, but after all the ways in which Supertwat's parents were so rude, horrible and unwelcoming to me, it was lovely to just sit and chat with some "normal" people over a glass of wine. His mum was really bubbly and chatty and his dad was really sweet and gave me a huge hug when they left. The weird thing was though that TB seemed to come alive with them and was suddenly so much more confident and really funny.

We left to go to the restaurant and the weather suddenly got loads worse. I had a brolly and TB huddled under it with me. I thougt he was getting a bit forward at one point as he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him but it was just to stop me getting soaked when a Morrisons lorry drove through a huge puddle near me.

However, when he went to let go of my hand, I didn't let him. We walked hand in hand to the restaurant and I had one of the best evenings I've had for ages. TB said ten times, one after the other "I love you" and then said that if he said it ten times then maybe it would be out of his system and he could resist saying it again. I told him I just didn't know how I felt and he said he understood and would never ever push it.

He said that he'd been speaking to his parents about it all (his sister's husband had left her after 6 months) and his parents had just advised him to be honest but not to expect anything in return from me. They told him that if six months or a year down the road I felt ready then maybe something might come of us but that in the meatime he just needed to be kind, honest and supportive. I almost cried into my griddled halloumi cheese when he said that. It was exactly what I needed to hear and that fact that he'd discussed it with his parents to make sure he did the right thing just proved what a great guy he is.

I ended up driving home wiht a big grin on my face and crawled into bed happier than I've been for a long time. I was just dropping off to sleep when there was the most almighty crash in my bedroom. I screamed the place down and grabbed the first object I had near me to fight whatever lunatic had broken into my house (not sure they would have been particularly hurt though as the first thing I grabbed was a bumper tube of Veet. Maybe they wouldn't have been injured but they would definitely have had very smooth legs having been depilated to within an inch of their lives) was almost ready to call the police on my mobile when I realised what had happened. I had left the window open and the mad weather had blown the curtains open. I had a full length mirror leant up against the wall and the curtains had pushed it over. I now therefore had 4 feet of smashed glass all over my floorboards at one in the morning.
After my heart rate had returned to normal and I had returned the veet to my dressing table, I had to venture downstairs to get the dustpan and brush.
Now, normal people would probably have put the light on to sweep up the shards of glass but not me. I decided that the light from the streetlights outside was more than enough and so knelt down to sweep it up. No prizes then for guessing why I spent the next half an hour looking like the shower scene from "psycho" with more blood everywhere than a hammer horror film.
I decided that if I made a tourniquet out of a tea towel then I probably wouldn't need stitches so returned to bed, a gallon of blood lighter and wearing the contents of the kitchen drawers as nightwear.

I popped out this morning to buy myself a new mirror and somehow managed to wedge a 4 foot cheval mirror into my car in the driving rain - girl power!
Now back at my parents' having sunday dinner and saying goodbye to them as they're off to estonia tomorrow for a week.

I'm probably not going to be able to update much this week either as three nights this week we've got either parents' open evenings or this ruddy production at school.
Please don't think I've forgotten you all though and please please please keep on posting - I love reading the comments.
Love to you all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX