It has been a funny old week.

I am fed up with the rain.  The cellar has flooded for the first time (don’t worry, the wine stash is fine) and The Boo has mastered yowling the first few bars of For Those In Peril On The Sea.

You know, life is a wonderful and complex thing.  The past few days have gone like this:

Work, wedding, work, diet, WEDDING, wine, diet, WEDDING, work, WEDDING, WEDDING, dinner party with double helpings of trifle, WEDDING.

It all got a bit much last night so after a good cry on my part and oodles of patting / soothing on The Other Half’s part, we went to the pub to hear a band. They were pretty darn good. To celebrate this fact, I drank too much Pinot Grigio.

There was only one problem. 

The Other Half can’t hear anything at the moment.   He’s awaiting syringing, and the sympathetic ministrations of our practice nurse. So he sat through most of the evening in thoughtful silence, communing with his pint. The rest of us chattered away, and occasionally he interspersed with comments which bore no relevance to the rest of the conversation.

It’s incredibly frustrating for him, and me, who took on the role of Chief Interpreter and Shouter of Information.  He’s clearly been thinking things through overnight, as we’ve had several detangling conversations this morning to resolve confusions.

And now we’re off to church, and I’m hoping that I won’t have to poke him in the side too much or interpret, as I fear I’m not too good at it. I’m also hoping we won’t have a repeat of last Sunday’s shenanigans. If we do, I may throw a tantrum of epic, nay Biblical, proportions.

I intend to spend the afternoon drinking tea and reclining on the sofa.  I think I’ve earned it.