If you’ve been following some of my social media posts recently, then you might know I’ve just come to the end of a 21 day cleanse. First, let’s read the riot act involved; no dairy, no gluten, no sugar, no caffeine, no booze. No animal protein from week 2. Optional magnesium salt baths, liver cleansing castor oil packs. Tumeric tea. Definitely no G n T.
You’re back so soon? Didn’t we just have coffee? I thought we’d been over the fact that I shouldn’t get so annoyed with the kids? So irritated when my words frequently fall on small, fluff filled ears. I thought I’d made it clear that I’d be less pissed off in future, about having to repeat myself like a parrot to get the simplest of tasks done.
“What are you going to say to the lady at the hire place when you drop the campervan back?” I ask the husband half way through our five hour commute back to civilisation.
“That was SO brilliant, thanks EVER so much!” he replies with fake joviality. We both laugh, by now fully able to admit: We’re not cut out for this campervanning malarkey.
Let’s rewind the clock shall we?