And if yesterday didn't end bad enough, this morning finds Tiger in a foul temper, trolling about the bathroom door scaring Shark, who won't leave the toilet. This, quite frankly, is an inconvenience we could all do without. We're due to pick up Dig from the foyer of the posh hotel at 10 o'clock. The plan was to visit the Pitt Rivers Museum en famille for the morning and still be back in time to wave off Elizabeth Hurley on her evening flight, having smartly released ourselves from the trial of having to be nice to her in her last few hours.
We do manage to set off from the hotel about 10.15, having emptied the room and having remembered to give back the keys instead of walking off with them like Dig does. So despite the difficult start we're more or less on track. But then in the car on the way to pick up Dig, Tiger goes bonkers and starts slapping Shark.
I've had enough. I am Misery Grit. Pitt Rivers can wait a few years longer. We pick up Dig and drive straight home. I drop off the family and head up to the Health Centre where I make an appointment to get us some help with Tiger from the Child Psychologist. I hope she's experienced in triplets.
And while that trauma's beginning, another one's ending. Elizabeth Hurley leaves the house. And my goodness does she drive Dig mad in her final hours. For the first time ever I hear him shout.
As far as taking her plus six bulging overweight bags to the airport for this evening, strangely neither me nor Dig are available to take her, and on this we had our story straight. You'll have a cultural experience on the bus! we chant. Basically we've lied. Neither of us want to drive her down to the airport where we are sure to be scammed into paying £300 excess to EasyJet to get her woolly jumpers home to Nice. And if anyone asks more about the other lies we told to get Elizabeth Hurley out the house and home before December, I'm saying Allie put me up to them.
Well Hurley at the last minute says she no longer wants the bus seat that Dig's gone to the trouble of booking. She says she's found a man with a dog. He's picking her up at the station and driving her to the airport so he can interview her for an au pair place in January. We ask no further questions on that but Hurley's final words are that she likes dogs better than children.
And after the 24 hours that Tiger's put me through, as I wave Elizabeth Hurley good riddance, it's probably the first time I've found myself in agreement.
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Dogs are better than kids, and cats are better than dogs.
I used to prefer dogs, but then I got one. And whilst I love him, he is also a total pain. The cats I foster are cute, funny, you can give them a bit of a stroke, but then they clamber off you and go back to sleep.
Where as the dog needs walking everyday and expects endless games of 'fetch' where he will dutifully run after the toy, ut then refuse to give it back & let go.
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