Mums and Tums

I'm feeling a bit grotty today. Er, again. (Sorry, I'll try not to make a habit of it). I'm normally one of those people who carries infections and spreads them around without feeling very ill myself. But today I feel, well, vague. Fuzzy headed. And my tummy feels a bit wobbly. Inside, I mean. The outside always feels wobbly.

I'm looking forward to just getting home and seeing The Boyf, now he's back from visiting his Mum. He must be so pleased to be home. To say that his Mum is overly dramatic is to seriously understate it. I thought those people only existed in hammy stage-plays, but apparently not; I've been witness to her wailing.

Last Christmas I bought The Boyf a remote controlled Dalek, which we took with us as a distraction when visiting his Mum on Boxing Day. As appears par for the course, The Boyf and his Mum fell out within 2 minutes of our arrival (due to her telling us not to touch each other in her home). After a couple of hours of me trying to make polite conversation with The Boyf's Step-Dad, whilst simultaneously trying to drown out the noise of The Boyf and his Mother arguing upstairs, we were treated to the sudden entry of said Mother pulling at her hair, with a face not disimilar to Munch's "The Scream". On seeing the Dalek on the floor his Mother shrieked "Oh good! I need to be exterminated!" and fled towards the kitchen, still holding handfuls of hair.

You see now why I don't always visit with him.