A very Large lockdown

Where the heck do I start?

For starters how are you all doing? I say this because if your new normal is a fraction of the craziness I have here then you most definitely have my sympathies.

I had fully intended to created a new blog series resembling something like the Captains log from Star Trek but soon realised we were one Eejit short of a Klingon. Amazon have also failed to deliver my special Motorola resembling communicator thingymabob.

As the title of my Blog states, this is about our move to Sicily. We’re still there. Never once when making our decision did we think we would be smack bang in the middle of a pandemic that forces the entire world to go into lockdown.

Anyone that know’s me will understand that not being able to travel or book any holidays is a problem. I would normally have at least 2 booked up by now. Don’t get me wrong there’s one sorted but I don’t want you to miss the point or underestimate the severity of the situation.

Life in lockdown is good. Honestly it’s really good. I’m really not rocking in a corner with a pencil up my nose mumbling wibble.

We’re 5 toilet roles away from a national disaster (oops, hold on a minute) and we’re eyeing up which dog would make the better bum wipe. Arch my Staffy is the favourite as Baxter sheds hair at a ridiculous rate and his hair gets in enough places as it is, without having to drag it strand from strand from my arse crack.

I haven’t managed to kill anyone with my cooking yet. It’s got close a few times but we decided it best to throw away the yeast free lumps of roughage that should have been Hot Cross Buns.

All the males in the household have had their heads shaved. Benji enjoyed mocking his little brother and in his words “Harry has a reverse mullet” I think I’d got to carried away watching Joe Exotic and all that deliciousness. You should see the Tats I’ve given them.

The Boys are homeschooled normally, so that craziness is not something we’ve had to endure. They are feeling the injustice as they believe the rest of the world is having a school holiday. Not helped by the fact I made them work through the actual Easter holidays this year. (We have some catching up to make before the end of the year) My Bad!

We tried to do that nutter Joe’s PE work out (Wicks not Exotic) but, come on, give me a break. I am not participating in a butt aching workout for anyone. Especially someone with that voice. Dont tell me it doesn’t get on your nerves! That being said, Tom H, give me a call if you start up. 😉

The Husband is working from home 4 out of the 5 days. Thus meaning to my mind he’s only 1/5 essential. It’s funny, before this we always thought it would be nice to be together more. Even work together. As it is we’ll be ending this lockdown in separate bedrooms with one of us having a new friend that lets them lie on a couch whilst they write in a special notebook.

I do feel sorry for him. Since lock down began, he’s forgotten that it was Mothers day and also our 7th Wedding anniversary. There is not a cat in hells chance I would want to be locked in a small apartment with a woman who is fine despite burning the walls with flames coming from their mouth. Luckily though he rectified the situation – I refer you back to the one and only holiday I mentioned above.

I’m slowly cutting down my Alcohol intake. I say slowly, by the end of this pandemic I should be down to only one bottle a day. (NB: I’m not really drinking anywhere near this amount so, please don’t send me any leaflets anonymously through the post)

Friends are still fabulous. I never realised what a hugger I am until I started meeting a few grocery shopping recently and realised that they had put up a barb wire fence to stop me getting to them.

As I draw this to a close, with the hope that I’ve left some hilarity in my head for another attempt, I would like to seriously thank anyone out there still having to work during this time. Not only careworkers, but those we don’t always think of in supermarkets, delivery drivers (Especially my amazon man) and any others we’re not clapping for.

Stay home people, this isn’t a drill. If Dave can risk life and lim staying locked in with me, then so can you anyone.

Love to you all.


Why are we always counting down?

So the deadline grows ever closer. Its a flipping nightmare, let me tell you. We make the decision, tell the kids, and then over night the doubt creeps in and we second guess that decision.

I say the doubt creeps in, it’s more like a big grey monster with a wet fish called Doubt that he slaps right across the side of your face. Makes you second guess everything.

The little Larges have been convinced, I think it was the thought of a Private school that did it for them. As Benji said “that sounds Posh”. I don’t think he appreciated the skills he was taught as his old Italian school. Harry is just agreeing with everything right now. I have no idea why and I’m sure all will become apparent soon enough.

How easy it is to give advice. If a friend of mine said they had this opportunity I’d tell them to grab it and run. Don’t look back. Everything would work out fine. How many of us would actually listen to our own advice? Do we still live by what we would tell others? If we don’t appear supportive we worry and therefore give what is possibly bad advice? Hmm, this is too deep for a Sunday.

1 day, that’s what’s left to decide our future. The future of the Raptors. The future of the dogs. And the Cat, I’ve even worried what the cat will think.

Benji goes to secondary school in three years, how will he adjust if we come back then. You should hear how Dave moans about going half way round the world via all methods of transportation. Legs, car, bus, tram, train, motorbike and subsequently air. (He once got knocked over by a motorbike that sent him flying. Most of you will know the story as he’s bound to have told you. If not, just you wait, your time will come)

I love Sicily, I love the people there and the people we met. Anyone we had a problem with had a British accent and likely to boil a bunny at any given moment. We British appear to be very snobby when it comes to travelling across the world and yet I’m not sure why when you look at the amount of rubbish here that litters the rural lanes.

Warmth, the Husband is obsessed with the warmth. Apparently it’s got something to do with the fact he’s Mediterranean. He gets the right ‘ump if you point out that technically it should only be 1/4 of him that needs to be warm considering this is the amount of him that is Mediterranean. I’m distantly Irish but you don’t see me claiming to need Potatoes all day long.

Either way we choose we are aware of the disappointment we will be causing. It’s not an easy thing to live with. And yet, who are our biggest concerns? Shouldn’t it be how we feel? not worry about how others are disrupted by what we choose?

I think the thought of clearing out all the house is scaring me silly. It’s not till you move that you realise you’ve got a hoarding addiction much worse than any problem Steptoe had. I just have to look in my bedside cabinet at the cough sweets that expired in 2014 (a year after our last move). I know, I know I should really chuck them away. My Nan though was feeding my brother and I the same pack of sticky barley sugars and Tunes right through the 80’s and 90’s. We survived that although we now have very few teeth left.

Anyway, I could ramble on for hours and as Dave probably stopped reading 9 paragraphs ago, I’ve gone on too long.

Have a lovely Sunday people.

Ciao for now!