I know, weird one, but that's what kind of a week it's been.
The family arrived as previously discussed, and as Himself and I get up pretty early to leave for work, we gave them our bedroom and slept in the living room floor on the air mattress. I say slept... Himself didn't, really. I swear, that man's the gender-challenged reincarnation of the Princess plagued by the infamous legume. He said it was too "lumpy", and attempted to sleep on the couch last night. I know from personal experience that our battered (slightly moggie-shredded) sofa is highly uncomfortable, so he didn't fare too well in his endeavour.
I find the air mattress fairly comfortable, myself. Of course, there's the slight issue with my subconscious. I have (as previously discussed) an extremely active nocturnal mind, and apparently the change in sleeping arrangements triggered some strangeness. The first night on the air mattress, I dreamed I was playing a piano (an upright, in case you're wondering) and as I stood up and turned around, a pair of hands shot out from under the piano and grabbed my ankles. In the dream, I knew it was a man and that he was attempting to abduct me, and as usual in such dreams, I was unable to get away or even to scream. I woke up in the middle of the night with my heart running triple-time. The second night on the air mattress, last night, I dreamed my teeth fell out. Some of them were stuck together in groups of three or four, and I had a handful of them and was trying to get the dentist to put them back in, but he refused as there was already a patient in the chair.
Nightmares notwithstanding, it's actually been lovely having the cousins staying with us. I took yesterday off work and went on the bus tour around London (my third or fourth time to go) and the boat tour from Westminster to Greenwich (my umpteenth time on that one). We wandered all over London, got plenty of exercise and lots of fresh air with our historical education, and finally made it home (via Soho, which amused the pair from Arkansas no end) completely exhausted.
I say exhausted... they were half asleep, I decided it was time to bake. Tonight is the Dragon Boat Race for charity, and my office has a team competing. Their name? The Paddington Pirates. Wild horses couldn't have stopped me making chocolate cupcakes with black icing and tiny Jolly Roger flags. I simply couldn't help myself.
However, there was a pleasant surprise to arrive with the family. It turns out that the female of the pair is a crafty soul like yours truly. I knew she knits, the occasional facebook status update told me that much, but I had no idea that she had a shop on Etsy for a while, or that she's a graphic designer with the firsthand knowledge to steer me in the right direction towards which photo editing package in which I should invest. We drooled all over Liberty's exclusive offerings together (while her husband took a walk, as he has NO interest in window shopping for yarn)and discussed sewing projects with wild abandon. I think next time, I'll send Himself to Arkansas and bring my Crafty Cousin over as a swap. I'm sure both husbands would appreciate the break from the constant hum of the sewing machine and the clicking of knitting needles. And they'd probably get drunk. Because, let's face it, that's what men do.
They're off home tomorrow morning, so have (with marvellously impressive foresight) booked a hotel room at the airport to avoid the 5am stumble to Heathrow with baggage and much yawning. I'm off in a minute to say goodbye at Paddington, and then will be headed to Paddington Basin to support the team at the boat race (and probably get a leetle drunkish). G'night to one and all.