I woke up to the hideous realisation that I will need 8 boxes of crackers over the three days of Christmas and today and tomorrow are the respective children's school Christmas fairs. I am womaning the Secret's stall today where I will fail miserably to recognise a soul, as like most of the fathers I am hardly ever at the school. Somehow the dads get away with it.
My day started at 6 when my husband, Chris, left to pick up and deliver a harpsicord to his parents house in Bristol!? He will be gone all day, or at least until the school fair is finished I should imagine. His departure was quickly followed by drilling from Thames Water outside the house. I complained to the authorities yesterday as BTW (Bloody Thames Water) started digging a hole outside our house for the third time in eighteen months. Last time they stared at their abyss for three months. I can hardly wait. I know complaining is a waste of time but I find it cheers me up.
I am still so cross about a mate of mine who told me last night that she has lost her top job whilst on maternity leave (not from a social enterprise I hasten to add). Every year it is estimated around 30, 000 women lose their jobs whilst on maternity leave in the UK. One is an outrage, 30,000 is a national disgrace. How do the perps get away with it? They hope that vulnerable mothers of infants won't find the strength to take legal action and at the top end of the jobs market they know that if you sue no one will touch you again. So those women have more to lose in the long run. I suspect that the recession has made it worse with men fighting ever harder for the top jobs. It is of course a man who has got comfy in my friends chair whilst she was on leave. I think of all that work to get to the top, then you take 6 months off to produce a future tax payer and boom, you're out.
I will have to think about what we can do to stop this happening whilst I am selling children back the tat their mothers donated to the school. I make my lot memorise all my donations before they go to the school so I don't, as has happened in the past, get it back again. That six o'clock gin seems a world away.