Life for one Woman in Windlesham

I should be high as a kite, in 12 weeks working just three days a week I pulled off miracles, few mistakes some luck and 16 hour days. But I come home to stark reality a house and an atmosphere I hate. A husband who cannot even look me in the eye and kids who are not happy.

So I googled the post code I want to live in, and as anyone who reads my blog knows I believe in fate a five bedroom farm house I can afford on my own. I could keep chickens and would not have neighbours.More importantly I would not have the husband.

My happiest days were in my old house in Windlesham, with just me and the kids yes only me doing all the school runs and chores but decibels more laughter ok so maybe not so much cleaning. To be honest I have had it with the husband regime, he has a problem and it is getting worse.

The new kitchen will be lovely here but it will not mend all the things that are broken in this family just help sell it.

Just tired I guess, need to sleep, just wish I had someone to phone, my nan. Hey well done me!

Sorry bit low, cannot believe I am here in this house with this husband. Sometimes life is so unfair.

So I get up at 6.30am to speak to new colleague in Australia who wants to run through a presentation, please note it is 4pm in the afternoon there far more sociable than 6am in the UK. The sun is shining.

Dial in and four year old appears in the door way, mouthing who is on the phone. I mime go away, she does not want to go away, would like to sit on my knee. With my elbow I am controlling the slide deck and trying to talk about branding while, my meetings book is being coloured in and smiley faced out aggggghhhh. Where is my husband when he is needed!

Four Year old spots a big opportunity here, wakes up six year old sister, they both now appear in the door with a kellogs variety pack... I nod yes of course they can have this and off they go.

So call over I enter our kitchen, the kittens are on the table each with a bowl of cereal... smudge has cornflakes and smokey ricecrispies. All 8 empty packs are strewn across the table and six pints of milk has been divided been a variety of mugs, bowls and utensils for breakfast while mum works.

Teenager surfaces and finishes off the rice crispies the kitten did not eat... oh my god I am such a rubbish working parent!