Monday, March 18, 2013
March 18. Day 77. The Juggle
Don't get me wrong. I love being a mother and I have no problem working but together they combine to form a deadly cocktail that can leave a girl feeling about as in control of what's going on as she would had she spent a few hours at the bar downing Black Russians.
Too many balls in the air, not enough hands. You know the businesses.
So I kind of feel for Gerald. The barman was practicing his best Tom Cruise Cocktail moves by the river at South Bank today. A couple of bottles. A couple of shakers and all the turns and moves you would hope for in a cocktail master. From a distance I thought it was a circus performer or busker rehearsing but it was only when I got closer that I realised it was a master barman at work.
Unfortunately for Gerald, today he was having to contend with one thing he never gets in a bar - a strong cross wind. Things were getting out of control so in the end he decided to pack up his bottles and go home. Practice session over.
That's the thing about keeping all the balls or bottles in the air. You need all the environmental factors on your side or can all go horribly wrong. And if something's going to smash it always seems to be the expensive liquor and never the pineapple juice. It's enough to drive a girl to drink.
But these days, the closest I come to a Black Russian on school nights is a steaming pot of Really Russian Caravan, a black tea blend from one of those trendy specialty tea shops.
I need all my wits about me if I am to face the second worst thing about being a working mother. I call that thing Tuesday.