To Not believe those articles where well known people describe their typical weekend

[Summerbreezing]

It always seems to revolve around family cycles in the country, early morning walks on the beach, brunch in cool cafes, and roast dinners shared with large extended families including Great Granny aged 89 and newest addition aged 3 months.

None of them ever ever seem to spend Saturday catching up on washing and grocery shopping; or hoovering around the feet of DHs and DSs sprawled on the sofa watching car racing;or dropping one child to swimming, before collecting another child from soccer, before dropping third child to birthday party. Neither to they spend Sundays reading the papers until 3 o'clock, then feeling guilty about 'wasting' the day and dragging moaning children out for a reluctant walk before lazily phoning the Chinese for dinner because it's half past six and they still haven't ironed any school shirts for next week and teenager still has to be nagged about finishing homework.

So AIBU to secretly believe all these well known people are liars and just inventing the perfect weekend to make us all jealous?

This isn't really about how these people live, but about the comment upthread about PR people setting up stories and doing up rooms.

A few years ago I was that PR person fixing up a photoshoot as I worked for a bathroom company. We installed a new bathroom in the home of a very scuzzy young East Enders 'star'. His flat was a pit, apart from this nice new bathroom. We left him to live with it for a week or two and were then going back to do the pics and the interview - we were led to believe by his agent that this was not very convenient, or welcome. I had to tell the agent in no uncertain terms that he had had a new bathroom, we wanted our money's worth, and I would NOT be rolling up my sleeves to clean his pubes out of the plug hole before the cameras started to roll. I think he got the message, and it was reasonably spruce when we arrived

I hate walking in the woods, beaches, sand, getting up early, and herbal tea.

I like wine, slothing, putting the kids out to get some fresh air but then vaping my e-cig whilst keeping half an ear out (eyes are too busy doing other stuff like watching a week's worth of Neighbours or dossing about on the internet for Things I would like to purchase)

Sunday mornings are good because you can not bother having a shower because you "might have a bath tonight" but then don't.

I do the occasional roast but try and buy pre-prepped roasties so I don't have to faff around peeling spuds. Then you can just bung it in. You don't have to watch it cook, but you can claim that you have been "slaving over a hot stove" to justify the layer of sweat on you that actually came from drinking the rest of the bottle of white you opened to "deglaze the pan".

After all that weekend activity, an early night is generally needed.

mumblechum - that's the second time you've made comments about older mums recently not that I'm keeping count oh no not me

Here's another article in which MF discusses becoming a mother later in life in which she writes

I had my babies at 42 and 43, an age I wouldn't have chosen, but a decision that has resulted in nothing but the purest form of pleasure. I am neither unique, nor a freak of nature

who has vases of fresh flowers on the kitchen work surfaces??

Meee! One pound daffs from the supermarket.

We could actually make our weekends sound impressive (I do cook, DH and I do snuggle, we play with the kids, those supermarket daffs) but for the fact we are misanthropic loser bitches who have absolutely no social life.

Best weekend trip ever: we finally get everyone ready to leave the house at about 11:30 am. DH and I are bickering, mainly about whose fault it is we are only now ready to set off (DH-he's crap at getting out of bed). The moment we hit the main road the kids will want their lunch and we'll have to stop off, the outing is hardly worth it. DH insists on a detour to drop stuff off at the dump. I am cross about this. We get to the dump, queue to get in, DH parks. He unloads. DD vomits all over herself. Twice. And again on the way home. DS complains bitterly about the smell. We drive home. I deal with DD (screeching, shower, pyjamas, bed, vomitty clothes in washing machine), while DH deals with car (car seat cover removed and washed, car aired). DS watches TV. The end.

I love those "My Perfect Weekend" articles and use them as inspiration . Sometimes on Sunday night I mentally rewind and write my own article, based on what we really did.

Oh these things are all nonsense.

I've done those day in a life thing for the Sundays and they basically ask you loads of questions and then cobble together a mish mash so that the day they come up with is unrecognisable.

I love fridge raider. Allegedly all C-listers have identical diets

• porridge with blueberries
• chicken salad
• steamed fish with veg

They snack on handfuls of almonds.

Except really they live on diet coke, fags and booze.

From that Trudy Styler interview

"Lunch probably won’t start until 3pm and will almost certainly go on until 5.30. Richard E Grant and his wife Joan are regular guests, and Guy Ritchie often comes over from his house.

Afterwards, I’ll go for a ride up to Stonehenge on Jay, my horse. It’s a beautiful four-mile trip with plenty of scope for galloping."

It's like reading back my diary from last weekend! (Except tweak the timings a little and replace Richard E Grant with MIL, and Guy Ritchie with our neighbour who's going through a divorce. And actually, replace 'Stonehenge' and 'Jay my horse' with Aldi and my 1992 Renault, and galloping with pootling)

Come on, Bonsoir, share your perfect weekend with us - you know you want to ...

If I was a celeb writing one of those articles, I think I would lie too.

You can also make a fairly boring weekend sound good.

Shopping with screaming kids in tow, becomes browsing for artisan fresh produce in our local independents.

Stopping for a drink in a cafe to bribe the kids with cake so they stop screaming becomes, stopping for a coffee and freshly baked produce and a chance to share some quality time with delightful kids.

etc etc

I have flowers in almost every room of the house. Last weekend DH baked bread and we both made a roast dinner which we ate with music playing in the background and the table lit with candles. We took our dog for a walk in the woods overlooked by the Buddhist temple and stumbled across a group of Buddhist monks meditating. On Saturday evening we sat in the garden and had a drink before I made popcorn and then we watched a film together snuggled under a heap of blankets. There was a stroll on the beach at one point to collect sea glass.

All of that is true and not embellished.

However we also did a food shop where we bickered over where to park the car. DH mowed the lawn whilst I washed the windows and picked up next door's cat's poo. DH fell asleep half way through the film. The carrots for the roast were overdone so half had to be thrown away. I got stuck in some mud during the walk and ruined my shoes. As well as the sea glass I also came across a maggoty seagull and a used (presumably) condom.

Trim all the dross out of a day and they all look picture perfect. It's all about the spin.

But they all lie in exactly the same way. Walk the dogs on the common/beach/heath; meet famous friends for lunch/brunch; have all our family and friends around for Sunday roast beside log fire/around scrubbed pine table/on beautiful patio as the sun sets, curl up with dcs to watch dvd/play monopoly/munch popcorn in front of the telly.

I wonder do they get a checklist and tick the option closest to what they really do?

It is like trying to judge people's lives by their facebook updates. I see friends posting about having a great time at certain places and their lives look wonderful. But because I know them, I know the realities they are struggling with.

I'd love Richard E Grant to pop over for dinner...

Coumarin, that sounds like my parents' home town - does it begin with U and is the buddhist temple place near a beach beginning Bar.... by any chance?

Believe me, those shots can be errm enhanced.

I did a piece for a mag once where I had to be photographed. Not only did a makeup artist transform me into a soignee yet intellectual-looking type, but a careful angle and some purchased flowers made the Inferiority Complex look bohemianly intellectual. Which, believe me, took work.

Mind you, the cat tried to eat the flowers.

And then I had to dash to the school gate still wearing fake Ermintrude-style lashes which made my friends wet themselves and my small daughter cry

Oh I always go for a long walk at the weekends.

However its usually only me and the dog. H hates walking atlhough he does it once or twice a year in the same way as most people submit to a trip to the dentist. And the kids would need to be detached from the various electronic media so that isn't going to happen. Well not often unless they are going through a 'feeling sorry for mum' phase.

I used to envision long lovely family walks with everyones faces glowing from the bracing wind, laughing and enjoying each others company like people in adverts.... but that only happened for a few years while one or all of them were too small to argue and then we'd have to carry one of other of them so that wasn't fun. And at least one of the party would be crying part of the time...usually it was one of the children.

Dog and I like it though.

My glam weekend:
Saturday - strolled around Whitstable and along the coast with my loving partner, chatting with interesting local characters. We stopped in a bijou locally-run cafe for a fresh, home-made, simple but delicious healthy lunch. We made some purchases at the Whitstable farmers market for that evening, then took a relaxed drive home taking the long route, stopping to admire the beautiful landscapes of the North Downs. When we got in we enjoyed some quiet domesticity, then OH rustled up a gorgeous dinner, we had a couple of glasses of fine wine and relaxed.
Sunday - We read the morning papers over coffee and did the crossword together. After brunch we took some alone time to unwind as it's so important in a relationship to have a little bit of space from each other to pursue your own interests and identity. Collecting again over a light supper of South Indian's finest offering, giggling together over lighthearted anecdotes from our afternoons, we had another lovely evening chilling out.

Truth
Sat - we went to Whitstable. It was cold and rainy. Interaction with local characters: One weirdo came up to us in the street and started going on at us about the change of ownership of a shop. One of the cockle stall holders misheard me say something to OH and got all offended thinking I was criticising his cockles and was arguing with me. The cafe was ok, the stuff was claimed home made, but there were an awful lot of microwave pings from the kitchen. OH bought 4 pints of beer to takeaway from the farmers market, in a plastic milk container thing. We got very lost on the way home and spent ages driving in circles round muddy little one track roads as OH refuses to use the sat-nav even when lost. We did the laundry. OH cooked something I can't even remember. We cracked open a bottle of £5 wine from Aldi. We watched TV.

Sun - We read the paper and did the crossword. We had to keep cheating and looking stuff up on the internet to do the crossword. We had some toast. Then OH went up pub to watch footie with mates, and I sat at home watching shit TV, eating chocolate and drinking cider. OH brought back a takeaway, and we were both a bit pissed. We fell asleep on the sofa.

Mariella . What a lying knob.

Just for WiseMama...

On Friday evening we load into the car and drive out to our country house, an hour and a half from Paris in the Perche. It's a renovated 1900 villa in its own park and provides complete silence and a get away from the frenetic pace of our weekday lives in Paris. Our housekeeper leaves us a late light supper of local specialities to eat on our arrival and we fall into bed.

In the morning I am up early to go to the market in our local town. I have my favourite stall for everything and am very friendly with the traders who reward loyal customers with excellent service. I buy ripe fruit, vegetables, fresh whole milk from a local farm and thick raw crème fraîche; the butcher has a just-roasted rare joint of beef waiting for me at noon and I rush home, where I hope that other family members will have done a good job of laying the table just in time to put the food out before our visitors arrive.

After a long lazy lunch with lots of wine from our cellar (enough to see us out now!) the men and boys play tennis, the children disappear off into the garden or attic and the women lie around chatting - a huge luxury.

In the evening we eat at a local restaurant where the owner greets us with kisses and serves us locally caught fresh water fish. It's a beautiful spot, in a mill near the water's edge and the sound of running water refreshes the soul.

On Sunday we might be invited over to another family's house nearby - people are fond of big get togethers in the French countryside - or we might take in an antiques market. While the Marché aux Puces on the outskirts of Paris have become outrageously expensive, there are still many bargains to be had in the countryside if you know what you are looking for. Our 20-seater dining table was picked up for a song at just such a country antiques fair.

After lunch we head off back to Paris: we like to get back in time to catch a film at 7pm and a quick supper at Pizza Chic before dropping into bed, thoroughly refreshed for the week ahead.

There's always one

It is how they want to be seen, an 'airbrushing' of their lives. Take it with a pinch of salt!

Generally they have the 'perfect' relationship, the 'perfect' home, the 'perfect' children - and then next week they are in the paper for getting a divorce! Living with the 'perfect' anything is a nightmare! ( the 'perfect' mother being the worst).

Merci Bonsoir - our weekends are so similar except mine take place in Wigan we could almost be twins!