Alison's Diary

Jun 1 2008

Lifestyle

MONDAY

Wake up, look in the mirror and am confronted by an over-ripe tomato.

A few weeks ago my pal Mags said she was going to have a bank holiday barbecue.

I laughed at her optimism but yesterday was a very sunny day which saw us sitting in her garden all afternoon eating sausages, steaks and kebabs and turning down offers of factor 20.

Any resolve of abstinence went out the window when the first Pimms of the year was offered.

The dads decided to take on the kids at football. Totally outnumbered, they lost spectacularly. One of them said it wasn't fair as every time he got the ball about eight five-year-olds appeared at his knees and kicked him until he gave it up.

But I think his lack of skill was more down to the beer and beef he had scoffed.

TUESDAY

Meet my friend Jane for a coffee. She's been out of circulation a bit as three months ago she rashly offered to join two pals in the Caledonian Challenge.

Not, as I thought, a night of drinking cocktails at the hotel of that name but walking 54 miles of the West Highland Way in one day.

I check her pulse and it's normal. She also reckons her feet will survive because apparently the best thing to stop getting blisters is to stuff your boots with moss and sheep wool.

As I have no intention of ever taking part, I'll have to believe her. I offer to sponsor her £20 as it is for charity. I leave feeling a better person but not nearly as fit as double-marathon girl.

WEDNESDAY

In November my old friend Steve turned 50 - I did say he was an old friend. Being the sort of bloke who has everything, present buying was a headache for pals.

One couple gave him a flying lesson at Perth and his wife, Gaynor, phones to tell me what a brilliant experience he had.

I suggest that for his 60th he could fly us all to an exotic destination. "Great idea," she says. "He can be the designated pilot."

Dynamite Di and I decide we will be the designated trolley dollies - we reckon everyone will need a few doubles before the plane even leaves the ground.

Popping into Zara, I hear a holler from across the shop and see my pal Anne clutching armfuls of clothes. She decides she'll never wear them so we head off to Tigerlily's for a few glasses of wine before coming home for The Apprentice - to find it was on last night.

THURSDAY

Realise Dave and I have done nothing about a summer holiday when Louis asks at breakfast where we will be going this year.

All his friends' organised parents have booked lovely trips - one family is going to Jamaica and everyone else seems to be going to Italy. We've been going to Majorca for the past few years and it's hard to beat.

Dave returns from a round of golf and is ordered to organise our break before Louis goes to school tomorrow. He remembers he has arranged to meet a friend for a drink and disappears.

I tell Louis this year's holiday is a surprise, the surprise being we might not be going anywhere.

FRIDAY

After last week's failed attempt to watch a film, I book tickets for the new Indiana Jones. This time I don't make the mistake of inviting Dynamite but take Louis and a friend.

I can't believe Harrison Ford, right, did his own stunts - he's 60 years old. But he looks as fit as a butcher's dog and puts every fortysomething father in the cinema to shame.

Get home to find Dave entertaining Jim and Susan, who have popped round unexpectedly. As the bottles are opened, Susan tells me she had friends round for supper the weekend before.

She tried to push the boat out - the first course of smoked salmon was laid out on the table as they had a drink before the meal. But when she led her guests into the kitchen, she found eight empty plates. She had no idea dogs liked salmon - she does now.

SATURDAY

I'm coming to the conclusion Hadrian's Wall should be rebuilt.

Every week pals from London arrive expecting to be taken out on the town. It's not doing my waistline or my purse any good.

Tonight we meet Graeme and Al who are going to a wedding tomorrow. Six of us get a table, promising it won't be a late one.

Later we are joined by friends who have been to the theatre and it gets a bit rowdy. Suddenly it's half-past midnight and, as I start eyeing up the piano, Dave says it's time to go home. Once there we realise we don't have cash for the babysitter. But she's used to us and has her own taxi fare. I wonder if this is exploitation.