Yet again the word “chaos” has ventured on to the scene. So many little jobs needed doing. An ironing pile mimicking Mount Everest was glaring at me from the corner of the living room. Another mountain of paperwork to be done. A lawn that was steadfastly growing. Why does grass have to grow? A trampoline that I only bought for the children last year has been battered around the garden due to Gail force winds over the winter period. A washing machine needing to be removed after I needed to buy another. Not to mention food shopping, creating wonderful meals to feed growing children and a son who has turned thirteen. It’s permanent expense. I find the more the jobs pile up the easier it is to become down particularly when doing those jobs never seems to go right. For instance, I had every intention of cutting the grass but then I blew the lawn mower up.

It’s frustrating looking at the jobs, particularly as I’m feeling housebound yet again due to the car failing its MOT and needing work to be done. As soon as my car is back, I’m going to spoil it with a good clean which is something I rarely do, but I miss the car that much! Ok, I have got legs and I certainly have used them trekking four/five miles at a time into town to pick up presents for my birthday boy or walking back from work. Quite frankly I just can’t be affording the taxi fares with what I need to pay out at the moment. I have also used the bus which has been quite an amusing experience.

A bus journey is a wonderful opportunity to sit amongst characters and have a natter and I do like using public transport for that very reason. While waiting at the bus station to get the bus home and minding my own business a little old lady of 80 asked if I would mind her sitting next to me. Who could say no? She had her little Zimmer frame and her shopping bags were tied to the Zimmer frame handles. Before I could say of course she could sit next to me she was sat taking out her passport photographs that she’d just had taken.

“Look at my mouth, it hits my neck!” She declared. I couldn’t help it. As she came out with those words I threw my head back in absolute laughter. I’d never really considered that at 80 years of age we would still be bothered about how we looked. She too started laughing loudly. “I look a state.” She said.

“Oh don’t be silly,” I tapped her arm. It’s the thing we say isn’t it?

“I need to dye my hair.” She continued. And with that she was taking out her box of hair dye to show me the colour that she had chosen. It was a dark blonde colour. I think she had plans to show me what else she had in her shopping bags. But she made her excuses and said goodbye as her bus arrived.

“I’m off to dye my hair and sort myself out.” She shouted as she made her way, pushing her Zimmer frame to the Local Estate Bus. I was left smiling as I thought how many at her age had given up dying their hair. Good on her, I thought. I hope at that age I’m still blogging about what hair dyes I’m currently using.

As I sat waiting on that cold slab of concrete, looking up at the bus station clock and watching the buses coming in. I had the temptation to hop on to another bus and head somewhere like Lincoln and just pass the day away on an unplanned adventure. But I knew that I had to get my son’s presents home and hidden before picking my daughter up from after school tennis and face the piles of little jobs ahead. I didn’t end up getting the bus, I got bored waiting and walked home instead.

As the weekend has progressed. I have indeed had my trampoline dismantled and taken away along with the old washing machine by a local scrap-man for free – free is my favourite word.  I’ve also now managed to get a gardener who is coming out on Monday to cut my lawn. My garden is huge and I like it kept tidy so I’m going back to having the grass cut regular, it’s a bill that I will stomach for the less stress, besides no way am I buying another cheap mower – a lawn my size needs something more substantial than a £50 flymo or a cheap cordless that just can’t stay charged long enough. I have continued through the weekend and indeed rolled my sleeves up, provided my son with a lovely birthday tea, caught up with masses of washing and the ironing, tidied masses of clutter and I’m about to start my mountain of paper work. Getting on with it means I feel a whole lot lighter.

And as for the children, they’ve been happy playing with water bombs in the garden. Not the most expensive objects, not exactly the right weather but… they have kept them happy. We have only had one accident – my daughter smacking her hand against a brick wall – ouch! But all was well after a few tears and a cold flannel. Sometimes routines when chaos resumes are difficult to sustain but we get there in the end.