Readers will be pleased to learn that I've made suitable arrangements with my estranged husband regarding custody and funding for Seb. Therefore he's staying with his paternal grandparents this weekend in their second home 'PeaceVille' which is anything but when my Mother-in-Law starts opera singing!
Last night I attended my National Childbirth Trust (NCT) antenatal group reunion which was held in a local Indian restaurant. There are seven of us which doesn't include a woman called Fiona who dropped out yonks ago. They're an ok bunch, but as with anything of that nature, they're obsessed with material goods and 'one upmanship'. My recent separation was the whisper of the [Facebook] village apparently but there were concerns that I'd be a threat to the cosy ethos of the organisation should I proceed with the divorce. The restaurant was trendy, loud and brash but I'm no fan of the surrounding village as I believe it to be overpriced and snobby. The waiters were downright rude and shouted our orders and thumped the dishes down onto the table so violently that the sauce spattered everywhere. At the end of the evening, a 20 surcharge was levied on the bill for groups of six or more but myself and Moira stood firm and refused to pay it. This made the others uncomfortable but they didn't complain too much when their individual bills were rebated.
In the taxi home I felt very alone and returning to an empty house was awful. I do hope life gets better soon.
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