THE Most Unorganised Fuckwit on the Planet just shepherded about 150 real people into a popular annual event - some on a Free Entry basis and some on a Discount Entry basis (thereby needing goats and sheep style catagorising) - all by myself - and nobody tried to kill me - and I didn't cry.
This is big. This is a very big thing indeed. Sod birth and death and marriage - I made a phone call. To a real person. Who I didn't know. I made a PHONE CALL !!!!
Recap, nutshelled: (It's a big nut. Like me. Deep breath...)
Last year, out of the blue, I snapped up the phone on an impulse and rang a very nice man at the Bentley Wildfowl and Motor Museum - just down the road from me - and asked politely about a possible discount for a gang of Home Edders for their annual Woodfair. 'Free Entry on the Friday!' the jolly man kindly offered. On a high, I posted it up on my Home Ed lists and waited for the gush of grateful and praising replies. Got about half a dozen 'Think we're free' s. Still on a high from my phone-phobe victory, I was luminous with pride. I had proved myself worthy of being called a grown-up. At last. Then it dawned that on the date of the Fair, I was going to be in Cornwall. Bugger. Handed my baby over to someone else. But text updates reported that the numbers had crept up to an astounding 50 or so happy Fair-goers. Cool!
And that was that. I had done my bit.
'Are you going to ring Bentley again this year?' sliced through a serene bug safari earlier this summer. 'Er....(shit!) .... oh... yes of course.' (Stupidstupidstupidstupid - the phone thing! The PHONE!!!!') And so it went on for a few weeks... 'Have you rung Bentley yet?' 'What day is it this year?' 'Have we got the same offer as last year?' (Pick up the bloody phone you twat and sort it....it's just a phone for gods' sakes.....you did it last year.... sort of...)
So I did. (Thinking back, it was about this time that I started using deodorant again after 11 years of abstinence). Again very politely enquired about a possible discount, very kindly offered Free Entry on the Friday. I even tried to talk him out of it. 'But there was about 50 of us last year!' 'That's fine'. Blimey. Posted it up. Double luminosity. Then got about 170 enthusiastic 'We'll be there with bells on!' s. Blinded by sudden adulation, said 'Hooray! See you there!' to everyone. The pink clouds parted, the miniscule brain beeped. Shit. Panicked. Hid. Wrestled with The Fear. Eventually phoned again. Very nice man at Bentley obviously trying not to panic too. 'I'll have to contact the Fair Organiser'. He hid. I found him. Struck a deal. The first 75 get Free Entry, from then on a discount. A perfectly OK discount. Not a 'Star Home Ed Organiser of the Century' discount - but come on! Posted latest news up. Hid. 2 nights ago the penny drops as to why so many enthusiastic takers-up had not confirmed that the perfectly OK Discount Entry was perfectly OK: my initial Call to Free Event post had been cross-posted by someone, but the Whoops I've Fucked Up and Now All You Lot Have to Pay post had not. Plop. Visited by The Fear's big brother.
That's why my children had to witness my Scarlett O'Hara-with-a-yam stance this morning as I was cursing the gods of public humiliation for sending such a GLORIOUS sunny autumn day. 'Why isn't it pissing down??!! I don't want anyone to actually come!!!!'
But they did. And so did I. Smeared in fearsome wode and the blood of previous foes, I dealt with the angry mob bearing flaming torches and pitchforks with the bravery of Boudicca against the Romans. You should have seen me!
Actually you would have seen a pitifully apologetic middle-aged meerkat (with more than medically safe layers of mascara) waving a piece of paper about in front of delightfully understanding crowd of very nice parents and their little poppets. (I need that Adjective Anonymous number again.) The only enemy in the pack was the huffy lady at one of the tills being all puffed-up and silly. After my imaginary battles of the previous few days I speared her with no remorse and moved on.
And so, dear friends, allow me to bask in the glow of overcoming a Major Fucking Obstacle (albeit purely mental) in my pathetic little world.
Bask B a s k B a s k B a s k ........
So we were in. Ice-cream to start the day. And sitting on lardy arse in the play area. I know this is how most people would finish the day, but as I have now proved myself to be SuperMuvva grown-up glowy thing, I can do what I bloody well like. Big 2 long-since scampered, I only had my wee 2 to worry about - relative bliss. So we 'did' the thing. Jumped on the mini railway, peered at lots of woody creations, poked some, bashed one with a big stick, dragged Thuglet away quickly, found medieval archery - yay! Little Rock Godling beside himself at hitting the painted knight target 'right in the peanuts!', and Thuglet impressed the nice medieval lady with his apparent duck-to-water action. (It's a weapon, of course he's a natural). Got talking, as I do. Found out where the phrases 'rule of thumb', 'keeping it under your hat' and 'cock-up' originated. Next thing I know words like 'Oh that's very interesting! We're part of a Home Education group - do you come out to groups and do demonstrations and stuff?' are spewing from my stupidstupidstupid lips. What IS wrong with me?
Managed to grab myself by the scruff and frog-marched myself away before I started brewing mead. Distracted again by small boys in a hand-carved dug-out on a very small pool, even let them loose with a mallet to make wooden horses (sigh....sorry - it's a blinkin' dinosaur), meaty shire horses sporting Night Fever flares, Bronze Age roundhouses to destroy, paint to make by smashing things into gorgeous mush, sticks to collect, special stick to drop and cry about, trouser waist-band to ping leaving wearer to moon at passers by for rest of day (this wasn't me for once), friends to gang up with - and chips to smother in sugar (separate tales from reunited big 2). And back at the play area for the big finale - disappearing into the willow tunnels to swap dirty jokes. (That wasn't me either - for twice.)
But the BEST thing was, I got out of sittin' on the Group W bench for a double gymnastics lesson AND Mr GPants did the evening football run. Who knew Fridays could be fun?
Just one problem. Checking the ol' e-mails tonight..... 'So when is the archery?' 'Ooh archery? Put me down for 3' 'Someone say archery? Two please.' 'Fabulous. We'll come too.' 'I'm Spartacus!' 'I'm Spartacus!' 'I'm Brian and so is my wife!'........
Need more deodorant.
And way more mascara.
Oh and a brain would help.