Monkey Music the morning after the night before

I am a big fan of Monkey Music, as is Sebi.  Normally I can think of no better way to pass 35 minutes on a Thursday morning than prancing around a filthy community centre that smells of cabbage singing cheery songs, but not today, not hungover.

The last two Thursdays I have been most definitely hungover and I blame the government.  There's always been a rule in our house regarding 'No alcohol Mondays' which we have adhered to reverently, (obviously excluding bank holidays).  Recently though, the news reports screaming about the importance of two alcohol-free days a week have begun nagging at my alcoholic subconscious and the previously relatively painless 'No alcohol Monday' has turned into a more arduous 'No alcohol Mondays AND Tuesdays'.  By the time the kids hit the sack at 7pm on Wednesday evening therefore I am gasping for vino.  I seem to be trending towards organising a night out every Wednesday, almost as a celebration of surviving on the wagon for two days.  Last night was oysters and champagne and raucous laughter in Loch Fyne with Samantha.  All good fun and I was in bed by 11, but I'm really not the woman I used to be and am feeling a tad on the bleary side of normal this morning.

So Monkey Music was a bit of a trial.  The friendly smiley teacher that I normally rate quite highly made me want to head-butt her within seconds.  The oh-so-cheery jingly songs made me want to vomit and I sat on my mat glowering and half-heartedly doing the bare minimum, looking I'm sure pretty similar to how I looked about twenty years ago in art and gym lessons at school.  Seb was more than a little bit embarrassed of me I think and luckily raised his game to compensate.  He headed into a kind of musical theatre-esque performance, eclipsing the sight of his sulky, smelly, sickly Mummy behind him.  Seven three-year olds drumming with great vigour at the end nearly sent me over the edge; maybe I should've subtley worn earplugs like the Queen at the Jubilee Concert?

I imagine that the health professionals who published the alcohol guidelines weren't necessarily suggesting that the answer is to go and get shitfaced on day 3 each week.  I think however, until I get more cheerful about two days off the sauce each week then I'm afraid alcoholic Wednesdays are going to be a permanent weekly feature; along with grumpy cow Thursdays....