Sweaty, Tired, Sooty Children.

Sweaty, Tired, Sooty Children.

Heat. Long car journey. Grouchy children. Me squashed between their car-seats trying to calm them down.

That sums up an hour and a half of my life yesterday late afternoon.

We’d been away for a lovely weekend in the Essex countryside but we were now hot, sweaty and very over tired and as we pulled up by the house Mr UFM and I literally ran the kids in for operation dinner, bath and bed.

But then we saw the lounge.

IT WAS COVERED IN A THICK LAYER OF SOOT and within a moment so were we. We were a family of hot, sweaty, grouchy chimney sweeps.

It was one of those moments when I wanted to either lock myself in the toilet for a good hour or run away. I’d been up since half five giving Mr UFM his obligatory father’s Day lie in and I had zero energy but somehow as I so often do, I had to muster it from somewhere because operation dinner, bath, bed now had the added extra of being operation clean every inch of our soot covered lounge and kitchen. And when I say covered I really do mean covered…..

Baby toys, the sofas, the rug, our clean washing that was hanging up near the fireplace (serious error) and don’t even get me started on the wooden floor. It was like a scene out of Mary Poppins. Louis had it all over his legs, Poppy somehow had it all over her body and Mr UFM had it on his actual face.


I did dinner (Poppy was so exhausted that she had dinner in bed whilst watching “Sarah and Duck” on Mr UFM’s mobile ( I was not in the mood for a tantrum and literally would have bought her a puppy last night if it would have kept the tears at bay). Louis was in full dinner refusal mode so I made about four variations on a theme, most of which landed on my legs and the sooty floor.

Mr UFM cleaned. He is my hero. He pretty much had the lounge sparkling. Not the best end to Father’s Day.

As we all tossed and turned in bed in the immense heat, MR UFM and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. We chose laughter. Because when the soot hits the fan you just have to laugh don’t you?

UFM xx


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