You know it’s going to be a classic Tuesday when Monday’s madness is still reverberating round your head like last night’s leftover curry. There I was, yesterday morning, up with the early birds (or at least the dog, who, judging by the smell, had already beaten me to the bathroom). You know the drill yourself: you wake up at 6 am, release a little morning fart, blink once, and suddenly you’re running late for work, still in your undies with a cup of tea cooling on the windowsill.

Since becoming my husband’s carer, mornings have started to feel like a rerun of those early motherhood days. ‘Put your own oxygen mask on before helping others,’ they say. Pfft. Try getting everyone else fed, dressed, and vaguely presentable before you’ve even found your clean knickers. By the time you’ve farted again and necked your second brew, it’s time to leg it out the door.

Matthew, ever the opportunist, announced he might “pop up and see the NPLCC team.” Which, in our household, is code for: “I’m coming to scrounge a cooked breakfast sandwich, wind up my wife while she’s got a to-do list longer than the M1, and raid the pantry shop for sweeties and chocolate from Nanna Bambi.”

Now, Nanna Bambi, let me explain her nickname: it is not, as some might assume, a baby woodland creature left behind by her mother in a Disney film, no. Nanna Bambi is our beloved shop manager, Mandy. She’s the lady who greets you at the counter with a smile that could thaw the iciest morning, and she makes it her mission to cheer you up, even if it’s raining frogs outside….. Ribbit…. The nickname ‘Nanna Bambi’ came courtesy of my grandson Toby (brother to George, who, as it happens, is Mandy’s grandson, try keeping up! There’ll be a test on the subject later). When Toby was learning to talk, Mandy became ‘Bambi’, and the name stuck. If you’re new to our community centre, well, sorry, I apologise now, the exit doors are boarded up, so you’re unable to escape, and you are stuck with us now. Welcome to the madhouse.

Anyway, back to Monday, where was I? Oh yes: I arrived at work, braced myself for the Health & Safety inspection, and opened the diary with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man at the gallows. Then, miracle of miracles, the first email in my inbox reads: Cancellation of health and safety inspection. Well, tickle me pink! God must’ve known I was about to mutter some unprintable swear words that children cannot read. Turns out Craig, our would-be inspector, had a bit of an accident and is now off sick until he heals. I’d have settled for a head cold for the poor bugger, but apparently the universe had bigger plans. Note to self: Be careful what you wish for, Kate!

Of course, Matthew did indeed pop in to see the team, but really for the breakfast (we all know the score). He was in top form, joking, larking about, and generally being as cheeky as a squirrel in a nut shop. He greeted Sam, our sales supervisor, a woman with such ninja selling skills that if you stand still for more than thirty seconds, she’ll put a price tag on you. If you ever wake up with a barcode on your forehead, you know you had Sam round for tea.

Sam, never one to miss a trick, pointed out she hadn’t had a cameo in the Rodger the Dodger chronicles yet. No sooner had the words left her mouth than Matthew, like a rat up a drainpipe, christened her with her blog alias. Cue dramatic music: bom bom booommmmmmm. From this day forth, she’s Sassy Samantha. The rule is: you have to say it with a lisp: SSSSazzy SSSSamantha.

See, it’s more glamorous at our community centre than the hit 80s American TV show, Dallas. However, I do have to draw the line, and say there will not be a “Who Shot JR ” episode nor a Bobbie shower scene, so get that Mills & Boom thought out of your mind pronto! A day in this place is more like an episode of “Tales from the Unexpected,” where SSSSamantha holds the torch behind the white curtain, while I dance in the hope of creating the silhouette of the dancing woman on the program intro…Except my dancing silhouette has love handles.

So there you have it: just another ordinary, extraordinary day at the not-so-ordinary community centre. If you’re reading this and thinking it sounds a bit bonkers, you’d be right. But hey, where’s the fun in being normal?

Tune in tomorrow for another episode of Rodger the Dodger, that’s if SSSSSazzy SSSSamantha hasn’t sold you on eBay first.

Chow for Now!

Much Love

Kate x