Just...urgh.

This week has been rough. It's cold, windy and frequently raining. Over the course of the past 4 days (16 bus journeys transporting my elder childer to and from their place of education) I have missed the bus no less than 6 times. On one of those occasions, a bus driver actually drove off whilst I was standing at the bus stop, newborn in his carrycot, toddler next to me and buggy half-folded. On another occasion, I muttered my new mantra (sod it) and decided to just be late. Five times, I walked the mile, with lethal, painful steep downhill descent and just got cold and miserable.

Until today, when I realised that my thermos mug had a handle and could clip onto the handle to my pushchair. And is pretty much leakproof. Aha! said I. I know what I can do with that. So I wrapped my daughter up in treble the usual quantity of jumpers, swaddled my son over his snowsuit, and filled my mug with hot chocolate. And oh, but I was warm and happy standing at the bus stop waiting for my number 11. Did I care that it was late? Not really. I even smiled benignly when I realised that my sons sadistic teachers were yet again discharging them late, sipping on my silky nectar. We shared my mug at the bus stop at the foot of the hill whilst waiting for the bus home (which was early, seeing as it was actually the bus before.) I parked my buggy on the bus, settled down enjoying the shelter. EVERYONE should take a mug of hot chocolate on the school run.
Another family with pushchair got on the bus. I moved our buggy, and heard a sickening thud, the sound of a handle splintering as it came into aggressive contact with bus interior. Vive le mug. Le mug est mort.
Spring? Yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it.