Retribution.

So in a moment of madness you agree to go and eat food in a pub.

You know it isn’t a good idea. But your man isn’t in the best of moods after a tough day at work, so getting out the house seems like a good idea. On the way to the pub your car chugs a bit but you think nothing of it, because the sun is blazing and the baby is thrilled because you are out on an adventure when he would normally be watching Roly Mole and getting in the bath…

You get to the pub and it is filled with the kind of people your sister would call "chavs" and you can hardly hear yourself think because there are so many screaming kids. Your senses bristle a bit when you see your tablemat smeared with tomato sauce, but you get out a babywipe and clean it up and smile because you are a happy Mommy and an interesting wife and you wouldn’t let a little thing like a drop of tomato sauce get you down, now would you?

You order food and ask for a gin and lemonade  to calm your frazzled nerves and you try to ignore the fact that your man is bruising for a fight with you and the baby is smacking anyone who comes within hitting distance of his chair.  You close your eyes and try to imagine you are somewhere a whole lot prettier and your man accuses you of not wanting to be there and the baby is crying and all of a sudden it’s ok because here is the food, and oh my, isn’t there a lot of it, and what exactly is that, and no they’ve run out of vinegar, and though there is plenty on the table, there is no sauce elsewhere and the baby won’t eat chips without it, and the gourmet burger is quite frankly an insult, and the italian chicken is chicken drowning in cheddar and everything is a smidgen cold and you can’t help but have a moan because whats the point in eating rubbish you wouldn’t dream of serving at home, and then you are an ungrateful cow, so you all get up to leave.

You get in the car and he turns the key and nothing happens. Nothing at all. The car is dead. You are exhausted. The baby is baking in the back seat and your man is outside kicking the car Basil Fawlty style. It hasn’t been the best of nights.

You call your Dad, and he comes and drives you home, and the baby goes to bed really quite pleased with an unexpected visit from GanGan, and your man goes for a run and comes back human, and you light your candles and pour the wine and sit down and finally, all is well with the world…

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