Me, Myself and I

In the space of a day my life went from being filled with 14 people to nil.
For almost two weeks the Waterman/Maclean Brady Bunch were in full swing.
I spent most of my time feeling like I was back working for play services. Counting children at every opportunity, making sure there was an adult at the front, an older child in the middle and me bringing up the rear doing an impersonation of Mary Poppins, a very grumpy stressed out Mary Poppins by all accounts.
Just a day later and there is no child like chatter going on in my ears, no Muuuuuummmmmm or “but he did it first” Nothing, zilch, nada.

My children are off with their Dad to sunny Carluke (?) and the Pirate fireman has evacuated his weans and transported them 400 miles south.
So to anyone else this may seem like heavenly bliss, but to me its utter crapola.
I’m a sociable character, I like company. I might be a miserable mare sometimes, but in general I’m happiest when I know the kiddywinkles are close at hand and the Pirate is faffing with his blog on my laptop.
I’ve been rattling round the house like a petulant teenager.

Staying in the house on my own doesn’t bother me that much. When the weans were wee their Dad often worked away, so I got used to being on my own. The other night though I scared my self half witless, I nearly had to sleep with the light on.

As bedtime approached I thought I’d lock up the house and watch the news in bed. I switched off all the sockets down stairs (I’m a bit obsessive about that) locked the front door and put the chain on and made my way up the stairs. One thing I forgot to do was put the hall light on. As I approached the top stair I heard this almighty GROWL coming from one of the kids rooms. Oh shit!! I stood there like a startled rabbit. Trying to quickly decide the best course of action. How the f**k had a dog, a f&*kin’ massive dog gotten inside my house? Now I’m a dog lover, my own German Shepard, who aint a wee yap, is being looked after by a very kind friend. But honest to god I crapped it big style.
I ran back downstairs and into the kitchen. Opened the back door and stood for a minute. Picked up my phone and wondered to call. The Pirate? He’s a fireman; he’ll know what to do. Oh but those bloody 400 miles again. My Da? Mmmm gammy arm, if the dug gets his other one he’s goosed.

So I grew some baw’s and headed back up.
What’s that noise? Some diddy outside is revving his motor full pelt.
Then it dawned on me.
What a prize tit.
The eejit outside has one of those baked bean tins things on his exhaust. I felt like such a clown. So there wasn’t a big f*&k off dug under the bed after all. But I’ll tell you this; it took quite some time for the adrenalin to wear off and for my heart rate to return to normal.
The joy of living by ones self.