She's clearly plotting my downfall. I might hire her out as a Bond villain.
Anyhoo, if this blog post makes no sense, it's because I'm currently high on cannabis. That's if passive smoking works with class C drugs. I'm not sure what my neighbours are up to this evening, but the communal hallway smells like a Dutch coffee shop (obviously I wouldn't know what that smells like, but Lisa told me), and having just walked back and forth to my car with a load of baby supplies, I feel strangely mellow. And peckish. Although I always feel peckish.
But that aside, we've had a visit today from the lovely Marie. She last sat on my sofa in December, but she was back on the south coast today for a friend's hen weekend, so she dropped in on us for a couple of hours before heading into town to buy some pink bunny ears and an inflatable willy. As we speak, she's touring the pubs of Brighton in an off-duty fire engine, which is appropriate as I think any dignity she once had will have gone up in smoke by now.
And as if an emergency vehicle isn't enough, the stripper they hired last night came dressed as a fireman, so I assume the bride-to-be must be some kind of pyromaniac. It's a shame Lisa wasn't invited - she could have played London's Burning on the recorder.
Anyhoo, taking advantage of the fact that I had someone to help me with Amelie, Lisa promptly headed off into town for the afternoon, so I fed Marie pasta, ate all the doughnuts she'd brought us, and bored her about my work-life for an hour. It's not surprising she didn't stay long.
Finding myself at a loose end with a baby to entertain, I then decided to take Amelie to the Martlet's Hospice Furniture Warehouse in Hove. It's where I bought both my sofa (although not the saw I used to cut its legs off) and Lisa's dressing table, so I wanted to show Amelie the place to go for cheap furniture. Because frankly she's already got more clothes than her mother and we've run out of storage space.
So we spent a fiver on a high quality chest of drawers. Frankly it's gorgeous, and probably an antique. I'd take a photo, but the flash keeps reflecting off the white formica and plastic handles.
From there I took Amelie to Toys R Us, picked up a cot mattress, and returned home happy in the knowledge that she can now vacate the Moses basket. Until I walked through the front door and realised I'd forgotten to buy sheets.
Following a short break for doughnuts (me) and milk (Am), we headed out again on foot to the nearest branch of Somerfield, where I failed to buy bedding, but did lay my hands on a stuffed crust pizza. Assuming she's not lying in a gutter on the seafront wearing a pink tutu and wrapped in a fireman's hose, Marie's coming back tomorrow to babysit Amelie while her parents are at a christening. She's expecting Sunday lunch, so the pizza's all hers.
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