Last night became a fairly unpleasant evening, with Nathan almost constantly on the phone to Talk Talk, who weren't able (or perhaps couldn't be bothered) to ascertain why my computer seemed to have suddenly become incompatible with our rooter. The raised stress levels caused us to row, and I ended up sulkily watching episodes of Time Team late into the night.
When I finally got into bed there was a rather peculiar atmosphere in the house; nothing to do with Nathan, who was sound asleep, but a slightly eerie quality. I must have drifted off to sleep, because a few minutes later I woke up screaming. I was aware that I'd been dreaming about my Mum, and trying to shout something at her.
When I got up this morning, an email arrived from Nell at Wingspan saying what a shame it was that we'd missed their Christmas party yesterday night. My blood immediately ran cold. Instead of rowing like petulant children last night, Nathan and I should have been at a lovey Christmas party, where there was a quiz, and a beautiful dinner (the menu for which I'd chosen), and where we were meant to be presented with our Grierson Award. I had been looking forward to the event all week, and then, suddenly, both Nathan and I forgot all about it. I felt awful: rude, angry, sad, embarrassed. I can only think that the visit to Bagshot House and the sheer amount of work I've been doing on Brass, dislodged it from my mind. I'm just not normally that person. I pride myself on not letting people down. For the first time in recent years I felt truly ashamed of my behaviour.
The day picked up somewhat with a journey up to North Wales to watch Nathan's nephew, Lewis, in a school pantomime. The journey up was insane. The M6 was a disaster zone, with road works and burning lorries (I kid you not.) We arrived at least an hour later than expected, but there was a lovely plate of pasta waiting for us, along with a full compliment of in-laws, and a delicious Tiramisu care of Nathan's Wicked Step Mother (WSM) who currently lives in Weston Super Mare (WSM!)
Lewis was brilliant in the show, and smiled like a superstar through all of his songs. One of the teachers made a hugely convincing dame, and another lad put in a cracking performance as a monkey! Some of the chorus girls were a bit under-energised. I'd have knocked the self-consciousness out of them within seconds, largely by mocking them mercilessly until they remembered to perform!
I texted Michelle of the Turkie mid-way through. Bizarrely, she went to the same school as Nathan's nephew and nieces, and I thought she might enjoy the idea that I was sitting in her old school hall. I love little coincidences like that. My father also tells me that we have distant relatives in that same little Welsh village. I guess this is not so surprising. I was born within a stone's throw of the place, and we've always had relatives in Rhiwabon and Rhos. What I don't quite understand is why none of the kids in the Panto sounded like my Nana! The kids actually all sounded disappointingly English, whereas my Nana very much didn't. Maybe there are two discrete accents up there, depending on whether your first language is Welsh or English. My Nana's was very definitely Welsh...