There is a quote in Henry V, 'let housewifery appear.' We watched the Kenneth Brannagh version a few nights ago and once again the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the great speeches.
Housewifery isn't a great speech.
6.30 this morning little bear decided he was getting up. 'Muuuuuum'
I groaned and staggered to the foot of the stairs. 'It's night time.' I weighed up the chances of OH being woken up. 'Okay, come down.'
'I want my castle and pompoms downstairs.' little bear yelled loudly.
'Not until after daddy goes to work.' I say, determined to try and not wake OH by moving all the stuff around. He is due another hour's sleep and needs it. He is really suffering with a cold.
Little bear then managed a high volume 'not fair, want now!' fit but eventually came down, OH well and truly woken.
I am unimpressed after a bad night, so make him some cereal and then crawl back under the duvet. I was there for at least two minutes before little bear tipped over a full bowl of cereal and then demanded to make a honey cake.
I can't find a sensible recipe for a honey cake, not that I have been looking as hard as I could.
After the mop up I am wide awake, so put out the clothes I washed yesterday in desperate faith in the weather forecast. It is supposed to be dry all day, so I have filled the washing line from an early start and hope, fingers crossed, that by 4pm when the damp starts to come down that there will be dry washing waiting for me.
I have put in another load of washing, emptied the kitchen bin (why won't OH recycle glass?), pottered with this and that, and I am about to abandon little bear to a screen to get some ironing done. So reluctantly housewifery is appearing.
If I sit still and shut my eyes I swear I will fall asleep.
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