off my face on E (numbers!)

I'm a deputy, get me out of here!

Have just spent the last two hours in pure hell. I've just done a party for 97 children for our leavers' end of year "do". I now reek of a heady combination of mini sausages, cheap cheese and party rings.

My head is also pounding from the delightful mix of Abba and some hardcore remix CD from one of the student teacher's cars which is all I could rustle up during lunchtime as I forgot my failsafe standby of "Kids Hits 2006".

I am also feeling decidedly odd and rather unwell as I actually have a bronchial infection which the doc reckons has been brought on by my hayfever, the damp weather and the stress of the last few months. I really am running on empty at the moment and I spent all of last night with a hacking cough that was so powerful not only have I pulled a muscle in my side but I also thought I was going to need to lash down my duvet with a guy rope.

I'm now on a course of antibiotics and am downing buttercup syrup like it's chardonnay. (So I apologise if this seems a little disjointed!)

I'm now relishing the silence following the maelstrom that was almost 100 children doing musical statues in highly inappropriate footwear due to the fact they were allowed to change into their "party clothes". (Wedge heels that are as high as their calves!!)
I now feel as though someone is clog dancing on my chest whilst simultaneously whacking me on the head with a baseball bat - oh happy days.

Things have not been made better by the fact that I managed to get in touch with Supertwat this morning. I was advised by my solicitor on Monday to tell him that he had 24 hours to get back to me with answers to my questions regarding the terms of the divorce, the money and the cheque from the closure of the joint account. I asked him over 3 1/2 weeks ago about all of these and he has done nothing (although he has spent a lot of time trying to "be friends")
He hadn't rang me though since last Wednesday and I was getting a little peeved. So, I sent him an e-mail this morning outlining my plans to have no more contact with him at all unless it was through my solicitors. I said he could avoid this by agreeing to my requests within the 24 hours but do you know what he said??? You'll never guess.

I can only assume that in supertwat's world of twisted logic and bizarre takes on reality, this would make sense. However, in the real world, it seems a little odd. He said that he had not got in touch with me because I had said I wanted no contact. (I had said no "informal" contact but that I was perfectly prepared to discuss legal issues at any time. I also had sent this to him in writing)
He then went on to say that it had "almost killed him" to not speak to me for a week. I felt this a rather unfortunate choice of metaphor given what had happened to me in early May.
The conversation then took an even more bizarre turn when he claimed that 24 hours was not a reasonable amount of time to sort everything out. I almost screamed. He's been gone over 3 months and has received an e-mail from me over 3 1/2 weeks ago and only as a result of him not giving me a straight answer. He accused me of being heavy handed again and I just said that if he wanted to argue then he could argue with my solicitor as I was exhausted.

After I put the phone down I felt great. I was finally regaining some control over things and the fact that trainer boy's solicitor friend was totally supportive and on my side and had set me straight about everything made me feel so much better. I'm now fairly sure that supertwat will not respond within the 24 hours so looks like I really will be rid of everything as I can then hand it over to my solicitors and let them get on with the infuriating business of dealing with that idiot.

In the meantime, I've been getting on with things very nicely thank you very much. We've managed to put on 3 productions so far and it's the last one tonight. It all went fairly well despite Gyy Fawkes' hat flying off, the tudor doctor falling off the back of the stage and 3 children forgetting their costumes. (At 6pm last night I was hacking a pair of school shorts and a shirt to pieces in the stock cupboard to hastily assemble a chimney sweep's outfit - bet I was the only 33 year old woman in the world who was huddled at the bottom of a makeshift wardrobe tearing school shorts into shreds and colouring in an aertex shirt with a black crayon.)

After tonight then, I have no more late nights at work and only 2 more days to get through before I can relax into my summer break and then only a week to go before I go on my honeymoon with my best mate.
I'm starting to call it my "moneymoon" as I rebooked our honeymoon after supertwat left me and arranged to go to Italy instead of Mexico with my best mate. Supertwat has yet to ask me what I've done with the original booking but my mate reckons we should take a photo of ourselves sipping a cocktail and then post it to him after the divorce comes through. This did tickle me but it still stings a bit that I will always be a bride who never jetted off into the sunset with my husband to sunny climes but instead jetted off to the divorce courts in the drizzle.

Anyway, have got to cut this post short as I need to go home and have a shower as I feel as though I smell like a scotch egg after our buffet and I'm so sticky from serving up Haribos that I think I need to go to the Priory and into rehab to wean me off e-numbers.

Will update again very soon and let you know what Supertwat manages to come up with.

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