I am sure my husband, Guy, would verify that it was bloody traumatic packing up all our stuff and cleaning the entire house.
And even that would be a massive understatement.
The two of us essentially cleaned a house in which five people had lived in for a year, and admittedly, probably not had cleaned for the majority of that time...
It is fair to say that our lives (and bins) were full of these:
and our lungs were (and probably still are) full of dust.
After hours and hours of cleaning and making the house look as though we had never lived there, it got to a point when only a trip to Burger King could have any hope of redeeming some spirit and preventing the tears about to flood from exhaustion and dread.
The dread? Well, that came from knowing we had a lot of unpacking to do when we got home.
It was justified.
Having two cars full of, well... shit, it took me a whole day to unpack.
This was the view of my bed, when I emptied the contents of 4 boxes of products on to it. And this was after I had been putting bottles of all sorts onto the shelves in my wardrobe for 25 minutes:
|Yes. I think I do, in fact, have an addiction to Boots.|
The fact that you can see some of the duvet was a massive achievement in my unpacking process.
Guy's room looked a lot like this:
|Put into perspective, this space filled with things is probably the size of my entire room!|
It was a relief to be done and crack on with what I do best at home:
Now, I don't want to take any spotlight away from the culinary skills of Jess, whose cakes are fucking delicious; besides, I couldn't even if I tried to...
These cupcakes were made at the request of my two little sisters, both (although Lulu doesn't actually star in any of these pictures) helped me in the decorating process and aided in balancing out the scales.
|This is Millie with chocolate icing around her mouth before lifting up her dress and asking 'Can you see the cake in my belly, Becca?'|
Yes, I will miss my friends at university terribly and maybe even doing some work, but it is good to be home.
I mean, no one really ate my cakes in Coventry, other than Guy and the Judas that is Hannah (her early departure meant a lot of left over cake, the marriage of myself and Guy and our suffering of cleaning everything by ourselves), and my greedy family make for excellent and surprisingly approving taste testers...