I always forget that “self-catering” is tourism-speak for “bring the entire contents of your house with you”. So I was slightly underprepared for our stay on the Central Coast. Admittedly, only packing two fitted sheets for each bed didn’t help. And it wasn’t really the fibro house’s fault that I only brought two beach towels and one of them got pissed on by a dog. But some toilet paper would have been nice. And I probably should have known to take soap. Fortunately I had shampoo, so I just used that on all my hair. The Sprogs only bathe bi-weekly, so they were fine. Hand-washing was a bit fraught. I kept reminding myself not to touch my face, as terrifying scenes from Contagion flashed through my mind. Breakfast supplies wouldn’t have gone astray. But I’m quite fond of cold pizza and it was high time the Sprogs were introduced to its pleasures. Oh, and toothbrushes, they’d have been handy. Particularly since Sprog 2 was given a toy lolly shop for Christmas, oh joy (and keeps raving, “It’s so cool.” as she sucks on her store’s wares). We had plenty of grog though. And virtually every toy the Sprogs own found its way into the car. So it wasn’t a complete disaster.
TONIGHT’S MENU: I did the bolt to the pub with friends last night, so my folks fed the Sprogs sausages and veg. Pop thought it would be funny to play guess the vegetable with them, so they got to try raw pumpkin for the first time. They thought it was carrot. I get my sadistic streak from him. Anyway, that means we’re out tonight together. Some club or other.