bank holiday weekend

I am going to Cyprus in 5 days and I can't wait. EXHAUSTED. Although the bank holiday weekend was super fun. On Friday I went to the gym with Heather. That was not the super fun part, although I do enjoy the body pumping. Because Heather broke me. And I nearly broke myself by forgetting to lower the weight amount on my bar and bicep curling more weights than the instructor. I was like, this is unusually hard today.. wait... why do I have 4 weights on mine and everyone else only 2? I could barely lift my wine glass in the pub that evening.

Heather is a mystery shopper and, randomly, she was asked to mystery shop our local pub. You get a selection of drinks you are allowed to order and each is judged accordingly. My Pimms with the brown slice of lemon and lime scored prettyyyyy low.

Then on Saturday I went to Lakeside with her. Managed to buy 2 black dresses in the Dorothy Perkins sale. £6 each. Although it is a bit ridiculous as I am going to Cyprus where it is 37 degrees with a humidity of 79%.

We bought some wine in the supermarket to sit on her balcony with. Standing next to her in the queue. Both buying the same bottle of wine. I get served, no problem. SHE gets IDed. And SHE is older than me. I was all WHOA WHOA WHOA. WHY are you not ID-ing me???? And the server as like, er, cos you look old. Me - BRILLIANT. THANK YOU. HEATHER. WE NEED MORE WINE. What a knob.

On Sunday I body pumped AGAIN and then went to Sophies house to see baby Megs who is very very cute. Sophie showed me baby Fabes new clothes, as we found out he was a boy on Thursday. THOROUGHLY exciting. His wardrobe currently consists of a flat cap, a kermit outfit and some gold converse. Kids gonna rock.

On Monday I went into London with Ma, Pa and Lol. We went to the pub. Which was lovely. It is called the Fishmongers Arms. Actually. That could be wrong. It is the one opposite St Pauls, on the other side of the Thames, at the end of Embankment. It is lovely in there and you can sit outside and look moodily across the water.

We walked to St Pauls. It is perhaps where my gmas ashes will be scattered. The gardens are beautiful. Gma loved London and we would all like somewhere we can go to remember her. Not that she will be far from our minds.

At her funeral the minister had speeches from us all; memories about gma. It was beautiful. Although I lost it when the minister said June was a proud mother to ... A proud Grandmother to... and a proud great Grandmother to baby Danny and the bump. It really hit home then that she had gone. She was a massive presence in our family and a constant source of amusement. I remember calling her to tell her... I had a job or had got my A'level results or something. And she was all, that's lovely dear but I have another call waiting. I know that doesn't sound funny but it is, to me, because that is what she was like. Like a hummingbird flitting from one thing to the next. Mainly from people we didn't know to the *whisper* lesbians to the other people we didn't know to *whisper* the doctors husband who turned out to be gay.

When me and Sophie wrote our families memories about Gma we really laughed at all the things she used to say, all her stories. We told our aunt we had to curb what we said as we couldn't let a minister say gay and lesbian and whatnot in church. Her stories were pretty scandalous. My aunt said yes, she wanted to say that she admired her mothers ability to walk into a room and within minutes identify who was gay, who was straight and who was having an affair with whom. "Hello dear, hello dear, WELL HELLO DUCKY, hello dear..."

I got a litte emotional at St Pauls. There was a tiny moment where I wished I was the kind of person who prayed at church. My friend G told me he prays sometimes in the chapel of the hospital he works in. Then mum broke the moment by laughing when I said, look at that squirrel burying his nuts. Me - seriously. Did you just laugh? Mum - I will ALWAYS think it is funny when someone says look at that squirrel burying his nuts.

We then walked to St Brides church. It was the church of the Fleet Street printers. It was locked though so we could only walk round the outside. Then mum wanted to see the Pudding Lane memorial. It was quite impressive. I have photos. I wish I could be bothered to upload them. You could walk up it but mum has put her foot down with a firm hand and decided that indeed it IS only retarded farmers who walk up hundreds of steps (quote from the film, In Bruges). The memorial is a tall statue with a gold acorn type thing on top. I said it should be a burning cupcake. Something a bit more relevant.

We parked in the station carpark. When we got back to my car I realised the passanger door was unlocked. That car is ALWAYS unlocked. Once I left it in a pub car park with the keys in the ignition. No one joy rid it. Says a lot about my car.

Work again today and my boss had done all his work. Which meant I came in to a MOUNTAIN of notes and letters and paper on my desk. Literally, a stack of about 40 notes...

Cyprus. 35 degrees. 4 days.