It’s not 3am as I write this, but my eyes are definitely beginning to lose focus and the clouds are forming around the edges of my brain.
It’s nearly 6pm and we’ve just bid a sad farewell to Husby’s Bro and his other half and come home to get on with some washing and Just. Sit. Down. We agreed that we didn’t like goodbyes, so talked about the next time they’ll come to visit (though I may give them access to a few less towels – 7 in three days seems excessive. Husby blames his Mammy for pandering to his Bro. I have no opinion other than to suggest that Husby’s Mammy is a typical Irish Mammy with an Irish Mammy-and-Son relationship with both her boys, it’s just that Husby is no longer at home to be indulged. When he is home, he’s indulged to the max.) and agreed it’ll have to be for longer next time.
They were very sweet and gave us some vouchers as a ‘thank you’ (they didn’t need to, but they’re just that lovely) and we used them to make a very important purchase for our floor-ceiling-tiled bathroom – a toilet roll butler.
Have you ever heard of one of those before? I knew what it was but had never heard the name. Anyway, it now sits in the small corner in front of the loo and I shall no longer have to fight with the blind to get the paper or battle against the toilet-rolls’ seemingly universal propensity to head for the floor as soon as touched (preferably unrolling as they go).
In other news, Husby got tipsy last night.
Something he claims (and I do believe him) never to have done before. He’s somehow managed to be the opposite of the rest of his family. He utterly denies any Anglicisation (is that a word? Who knows. It’ll do.) and says that he never had that strong of an accent even when he was at home and that even the Irish are allowed to be individuals. If he’s really, truly Irish, then he’s certainly one of the more cosmopolitan of the race…
Anyway, on with the tipsy story.
We’d all gone out to a local Chinese restaurant to have a gorgeous meal together on our last night and aside from a minor drama with some forgotten insulin, a mercy dash home and a very kind taxi-driver, the night went swimmingly well. We ordered from the ‘all you can eat’ buffet menu and loved sampling the variety of dishes they offered. Husby decided that he’d have some sake (he first had this at that very restaurant once while we were still dating and had loved it) and, because there were a group of us, that we should order a bottle.
Have you tried sake? It’s an acquired taste, to say the very least. It’s warmed to 50 degrees prior to serving (which does make it slightly more bearable to drink) and has a very strange, strong after-taste having had nearly no flavour going in. I managed two of the little bowls they serve it in. Bro also had two. Husby got through four large ones. He went superbly pink in the face and became something of a live-wire. I’m still not sure how much was down to the drink, how much was down to seeing his little brother and regressing a little and how much was down to him just being a little OTT, but if he doesn’t get tipsy again this side of 50, I shan’t mind.
We rolled back down the dark and empty streets, marvelling at how much we’d managed to consume (by the way, if you ever get to go to this, or any other Chinese restaurant and they have ‘glazed toffee apples’ on the menu, give them a try. I wasn’t sure what to expect – would they be American-style caramel apples? Chopped apples with soft sauce? Apple with tough toffee? They exceeded all my wonderings by turning out to be (essentially) apple quarters in soft, thick, deep-fried batter, dunked into delicious sugar syrup, then rolled in sesame seeds before the toffee started to harden. A bit of an artery-buster, but utterly delicious say, once per year) and decided that 11pm was the perfect time to start playing board games.
There’s something about the wee hours of the morning. I’m still not sure what it is, but there comes a point where ‘bed’ and ‘in the morning’ become utterly irrelevant and ‘carrying on the FUN’ becomes all-consuming.
This morning, despite the lack of alcohol, the used teacups stacked several deep and the general chaos, detritus and disorganisation of what was once a tidy living-room stood testament to how much fun was had, and how at 3am you don’t even need alcohol to be sloppy and careless. And this was our second 3am in a row – Husby and I (Responsible People With Access) stayed up the night before, waiting for our visitors (Drunk People Without Keys) to get back from watching rugby at the pub. They were great at keeping us updated “We’ll be home at 11…”, “We’ll be back around half one…”, “We’re leaving now – is it half one already?” and when they came in, were utterly hilarious and inoffensive, the source of their high spirits being explained away as “Drink is too cheap here!”. They managed to put themselves to bed and Husby and I stayed a little later online whilst ensuring they stayed asleep and sharing giggles about my bathtime predicament earlier that evening.
Today was more sedate. Church in the morning, a nice home-cooked lunch and a visit to see Sis, Niece and Neff before the Irelanders went home again. Not that Niece and Neff were in any way sedate – Niece managed to cover herself very effectively in marshmallow whilst eating a Tunnock’s Tea Cake and Neff was so enraptured with his present from our visitors that (apparently) a lot of running about, shouting and playing with his new rocket launcher was the only way to go. All very lovely once they’d both gotten over being shy.
I now have one evening of glorious relaxation to enjoy before two solid days of assignments. Bah humbug!
As an aside, have you seen the new Considerings Facebook Page yet? Bloglovin’ demanded a link to something, thus it was born. I’m still not sure what to do with it – more suggestions on postcards, please.