I am a horrible person, maybe more so than Trump because I haven’t posted in forever and I am truly sorry about that. So again, I will be posting more. My life has been crazy with visiting my sick grandparents in Florida to apartment shopping still (will discuss in future posts). Here is part 3 of my England trip:
After our day out, we went back to my Brit’s brother’s adorable cottage and watched the final matches of Wimbledon while drinking and cooking dinner. My Brit’s sister in-law is seriously an amazing cook, she makes things look simple and Instagram ready which is more than I can say about my cooking skills.
We had fish (because they know I don’t eat meat) and veggies, which the fish was nice and crispy and veggies tasted delicious with their spicy jam (don’t you notice how spice makes everything nice). The children were less fond of the dinner and hardly ate, throwing a tantrum. My Brit’s parents are very judgement of how my Brit’s brother and sister in-law raise their children, with knowing looks and little comments.
Yes, the children are a little spoiled and rule the house. His parents raised his brother and him to be gentlemen and my Brit tells me how manner-strict they were and you can see a slight change in both men when around their parents. They sit up higher, please and thank you comes out every minute, and you can smell the respect from their bodies. I’m not hating, I admire it. I hope if I ever have kids, my brats are old school British darlings that you picture could star in Oliver Twist.
Anyway, to finish my point, my Brit’s nephew did not want to finish his dinner or even eat 25% of his plate, his mother tried the punishment of “if you don’t finish your dinner you don’t get dessert” but the kid is smarter than that and soon he was having the first slice of homemade cake and large piece of Brie cheese. My Brit’s parents were not having that and making snide comments and when the kid just left the table without excusing himself or asking permission to do so, I think I saw steam come out of their ears.
After dinner, my Brit’s niece was showing me cartwheels and other tricks while the nephew was playing soccer. Soon they wanted everyone to participate and when the sister in-law shocked us all with a near perfect cartwheel, sadly I was up after her. My cartwheel was in-fact not a cartwheel but more like I was drunk (I did have some wine but not that much) and attempting a sex position. I was embarrassed but glad the American could make everyone laugh.
Next I was playing soccer and even kicked two goals (my Brit was the goalie and he was pissed), he’s a leo so everything is about him and he thinks he is like some god. Soon it became a game of us playing and ignoring the poor children, and dare I say I got turned on (I did’t have sex for like a week so anything would have made me wet at that point). When the children whined, we included them in the game and soon the fight between them started. It was late for them, and they were exhausted but didn’t want to sleep because the next day we were leaving and they would miss us. Insults were thrown, “loser” and “you can never play with my balls again”, meaning his soccer balls, you dirty pervs. It was entertaining, especially in their cute accents, and my Brit and I had to hide our laughs.
We said goodnight to everyone, and put the crying children to bed. It was sad to hear sniffles and moans of us leaving, but what’s sick is I enjoyed it because that meant I did well. We promised we would come back and I would keep in touch with the children, which I have.
As much as it was sad to see kids begging you not to leave, I couldn’t wait to go home to my dogs, my bed, and my writing. I was officially done with family time and ready to have sex with my man. Sorry, but I love sex and not ashamed to admit it. Anyway, that’s that. It was fun and eye opening because I think I just meant my future family. But, I had to go back to exercising and not eating everything that I wanted because my clothes were super tight on me.
At the airport, I made sure to indulge in every fatty thing I could and since we came home on a Saturday, that weekend I stayed indoors, on the couch, catching up on my shows, and eating more fat till Sunday at midnight when I turned into a pumpkin.
You know the drill, any questions or comments: firstname.lastname@example.org