Waving, but still drowning somewhat

Yep, there's my hand in the air, waving to you. I did it - the Race for Life, on Sunday! I had a wobbly tummy before we went (Mr T says I had a wobbly tummy before last year's race, too) so I didn't take my painkillers, oops. And, I was okay until we had a 30 seconds' silence, to remember why we were there, but then I couldn't stop the tears from flowing! I had to go and find Mr T, have a cuddle, and then I could start proper. Anyway, it was still enjoyable and emotional all at the same time. And, reading the people's messages on their backs just says it all for the reason we're all there. Then, at the end, my family were all waiting for me and we had more tears and smiles.

Since then we've had my out-laws to stay. These are the 'footballers wives' people I have written about, some time last year. Women who don't earn their own living, but drip in gold, diamonds (oh yes a different set for each day of the week) blond highlights and genuine designer bags. I am not allowed to say anything because it is Mr T's sister. But, we all know that saying no is a red rag to a bull, don't we? So, here goes. Ah, I can't really be bovvered, except to say that when someone insults you, minutes before they are leaving, by telling you that you (me) are the most 'Opionated person I know.'

When I queried what she meant, and that we all have opinions, don't we? 'Well, yes but you give them, even when they are not asked for.' And that now I was being over-sensitive, implying that I shouldn't give it out if I can't take it. Oooh!

Well, that takes the fucking biscuit, dunks it in your tea and then chokes you, rather, doesn't it? Especially as I hadn't asked her for her fucking opinion of me in the first place!!!! So, I reckon that she has just done what she accuses me of, doncha think?

Well, let's hope they don't visit us in our peaceful, Scottish haven for another six years or so. Grrr!

Best of it is that, I was a bit miffed and slightly tearful myself so I went off to town to spend some time on my own and calm the seething me somewhat, so as not to upset anyone else. While in a fabric shop I asked the woman there for 'Some of that stuff you stick to the back of fabric to stiffen it, please? But, I can't remember what it's called.'

'Ah, yes this is what you want isn't it? It's called blah blah.' And, I still can't remember what she said it was! Bah, just getting forgetful in my old age!