Girl meets boy

Hello my lovelies!

Our lovely friends across the globe…”Hello!” *waves vigorously on tip toes*…probably won’t know that it’s been a bit of a scorcher (hot!) for the last couple of days at Broccoli HQ and all around the UK.  So extreme has it been, that many of us aren’t used to this crazy, crazy weather…including me.  Last week it was so cold that I was contemplating putting the central heating on.  This week, I’m praying for rain.  LOTS and LOTS of rain!

There’s no satisfying some people (me) and, apparently, us lot in the UK are renowned for moaning about the weather.

So, I’m moaning about the weather…

Right, moan over.

Actually, I blame Brexit for this weather.

Kidding! (and being a bit controversial…oooh!) *sucks teeth*

Mind you, it absolutely wouldn’t surprise me if someone, somewhere, has blamed Brexit for the weather!

*sigh* and *yawn*

Anyway, as it’s been SO hot in the night and I’ve been a tad pre-occupied with ‘stuff’, sleep has evaded me somewhat.  So, late at night, after reading an extremely funny mummy blog in attempt to cheer me up– which it did, as it included drawings and lots of swearing and alcohol and general mummy malaise and despair – I thought I’d have a bit of fun with a new post.  However, there will be no swearing (drat!), no mummy malaise or despair (well, not in this post anyway) and maybe a tiny drop of alcohol.  Cheers!  *raises a toast*

So, in order to do some drawing, I raided Hannah’s art box and got cracking.  Initially, I wasn’t sure what to write about or draw.  But then I had an idea…

So, here it is…

Drawings and life are all my own, btw.  Feel free to nominate me for a Turner Prize or some other fantastic, famous artistic accolade.  I won’t mind.  *wink*

 

 

Once upon a time, this girl met this boy.

He was handsome and muscly and had nice teeth and, just looking at him, made the girl feel all fuzzy inside.  The girl told her friend that he was the spits of (i.e. spitting image/looked like) Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans….but without the loincloth and spear thing.  Ooh, or that John Corbett bloke…the one that did Northern exposure, Sex and the city, My big fat Greek wedding, etc etc etc (but without the accent, wealth and fame)

The girl’s friend thought she’d gone completely bonkers.

She may’ve had a point!

Because, the first thing the boy ever said to the girl was…

“Don’t come sweating near me” (fact!)

She thought that was THE most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her (erm…not so factual)

And even though they were in the gym at the time, the girl made sure she didn’t sweat all over the boy.  Anyway, girlies don’t sweat; they ‘effervesce’ or ‘bloom’ or something more feminine-like.

But the boy did lots of sweating, as he’d already done his usual extensive work out before the girl arrived to do hers…but he hung around and did a second work out just to be near her, because he liked her too.

Awh!

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They went on lots of dates and drank some wine, then decided it was time to settle down.

So they lived together for years and years and years and had lots of crazy fun.

People were expecting a baby to come.  But the baby never came and the doctors told them the baby would never come.

Whilst a bit sad about this, they just got on with their life and had lots more crazy fun.  They didn’t have much choice, really.

After more years and years and years their friend Kevin told them they were rubbish and it was about time they got married.

So they got married.

No-one was allowed to stick their nose in and spoil the day.  The girl didn’t wear a meringue.  Not a quiche, boiled egg, sausage on a stick or vol-au-vent was in sight. There were no bridesmaids and no ‘oops up side your head’ to muck your frock up on the dance floor to.

It was a perfect, perfect day.

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Then, one day, the girl felt a bit funny, so she bought a stick from the chemist and the stick told her a baby was coming.

The boy and girl had lots of dreams about how life was going to be.

A man in the hospital squished some cold goo on the girls tummy and the television screen said the baby was a girl.

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The girl and boy were very happy about this and they saved all their money up for the perfect life they were going to have.

After a while, a stork flew over the hospital and the baby arrived (well, not exactly.  Ladies, I am SO not going to minimise the overwhelming, excruciating pain of childbirth….oh no! no siree!!).

Anyway, the girl and boy now had to change their names to mummy and daddy.

The hospital people swarmed around like bees and said the baby was very poorly and would have to live in a (grotty) plastic box and have a tube that went into her tummy to put milk in.

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The doctors tested the baby for lots of things and told the mummy and daddy that life would probably be very rubbish in the future.

Mummy and daddy were very worried and scared.

After a few weeks, mummy and daddy were allowed to take their baby home.

The baby needed milk in her tummy 24/7 and there were lots of appointments and more tests, so mummy and daddy didn’t get much rest at all.

At the time, it felt like the doctors were right all along.  Life was quite rubbish!

Mummy and daddy were really fed up with stupid people saying stupid things AND the ones who had eyes on sticks when they went outside, but they just got on with it and made the most of everything.

They loved their baby very much and decided to make sure that things would be less rubbish than the doctors said.

Some people didn’t know what to do or say when the baby came, so they went away.

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Mummy and daddy weren’t bothered at all about this.  They had more important things to think about.

Daddy went to work and got money for food and stuff and mummy and baby went to appointments to see the ‘important’ people.

Mummy got grumpy at many of these appointments (and wanted to swear a lot) as most of these important people just ticked boxes on pieces of paper and didn’t do much, other than make her very sad and stressed and worried.

Then when daddy came home from work, mummy would sometimes cry a bit or moan a lot and complain that she was tired and really, really, REALLY fed up.  So daddy went to the supermarket and bought her some fizzy weekend juice that made her feel lots better.

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(N.B. Just for the record, I am NOT alcohol dependent!)

Baby was growing up now.  Baby liked to eat broccoli but nothing much else was happening.

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The books kept telling mummy that baby was now a toddler and should be doing more stuff, like sitting up.  But no matter what mummy did to try and help, the toddler just couldn’t do it.

So mummy phoned some special people who she thought could help.

The special people were miles away, but mummy didn’t care.  She’d have gone to the moon if she thought it’d help the toddler.

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They said bring the toddler, we’ll have a look at her.

So mummy took the toddler to the special people and they had a look at her and said they’d have a go at helping.

The toddler had lots of fun there and started to sit up on her own.

Mummy met lots of other mummys there who were in the same boat.  They said “me too” a lot and they also used to cry and were really fed up…and this made mummy feel much better and less alone.  Mummy suspected some of them also drank magic fizzy juice at the weekends too!

Then on Christmas Day, when the kid was almost three and a half years old, she took her first steps.

Mummy and daddy were euphoric.  They stuck two fingers up at the important people who said this’d never happen, then they cried a lot, said “Hip Hip Hoorah” and drank champagne (very expensive magic juice!) to celebrate – once the kid had gone to bed (obvs!)

Mummy, especially, has learned a lot on this journey.  She is now rather adept at lots of things: like dodging flying plastic missiles disguised as ‘toys’ that the kid aims at her head, writing reports, being grumpy with/ignoring stupid people who say or do stupid things, juggling an incredibly busy and stressful life.  Daddy is still very good at buying special magic juice for mummy, preparing dinner, cleaning and ironing, getting up to much mischief with the kid and patting mummy on the back when she’s feeling grumpy or sad.

But whilst the kid can’t do tons of stuff like other kids can do just right now, mummy and daddy love the kid more than anything, have learned that life isn’t as rubbish as they’d been led to believe, will do their best to help her learn new things and will #NeverSayNever.  Ever!

And whilst their ‘Happy Ever After’ wasn’t exactly how they’d anticipated, they feel very blessed.  Very blessed indeed.

The End.

Actually, it’s not the end…not at all.  Just the end of this post.

drawing

 

Right my lovelies, that’s all from me right now.

Thanks, as always,  for stopping by.

Look out for next week’s post…It’s Hannah’s birthday – Yippee!

Until next time

Annie xoxo

This post is dedicated to that girl and boy all those years ago.  Who’d have thought, eh?

 

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6 Responses to Girl meets boy

  1. Adrienne says:

    Really lovely Anne. Xxxx

  2. And the lovely threesome lived happily ever after….
    Nice adventure, Annie. Thanks for sharing

  3. Sheila says:

    This is a beautiful post and a beautiful story. Love your drawings!

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