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?

delphin exactly.

And what's worse, is they seem to expect the public to buy the perfection of their lives.

It's entertainment journalism, innit? . Just like weekends themsves it's providing rest and relaxation - and inspiration for others.

Ah, but is that kind of thing actually inspiring?

I'd be much more inspired by a weekend that involved shutting the world away/taking the laptop to the British Library (or a café if that's your thing) and hammering out several thousand incredible words.

This thread is hysterical

It inspires me . I really like relaxing in beautiful houses with great food and mooching about buying food and furniture.

Actually the most realistic of those 'perfect weekend' articles in the Telegraph was on the actress Patricia Hodge. She talked about cleaning the house, grocery shopping, watching Strictly Come Dancing and, apart from sometimes walking her dog with Miranda Hart and her dog, her weekends sounded quite normal.
Always liked her. She seems down to earth and genuine.

Oh, it sounds perfectly pleasant. I like nice food and wine - who doesn't? But one doesn't need to be inspired to mooch. I find it all too easy at the weekends, frankly

Oh but there are so many styles of mooching to try... I read the articles and they inspire me to reinvent my mooching

OK, I'm making one up:

After a Friday night relaxing with DH watching an art film, drinking wine and having a 'light supper' of salad, cheese and cold cuts, I get up early on Saturday with the children. I make eggy bread and we listen to 70s soul on the radio.

After we're dressed it's off to our local high street for errands and shopping, obscure vegetables, (kohlrabi or garden egg anyone?) artisanal breads and a highbrow magazine for me.

Home for lunch of pasta and home-made pesto, then we drive to our local National Trust estate for fun and larks. I make a fantastic dinner, usually chicken or fish and salad, the children have bath, stories and bed then DH and I enjoy a quiet evening reading. DH especially likes to indulge in his passion for modern architecture and the design of the built environment.

On Sunday we head into the city to catch an exhibition. The children do like a good art gallery. Lunch out, a leisurely drive home with rock on the car radio so the kids can practise their air guitar, home for a Moroccan feast of roast lamb, couscous and exotic salads. Once the children are in bed DH and I have rampant sofa sex then go to bed early.

Some of that is even true. Of course, it leaves out DH's appalling farts, bickering, sulks, the grimness of potty training, children fighting every 5 minutes, mutual recriminations with DH about why we have apparently forgotten to do any important admin including paying DD's nursery fees, endless laundry, the lingering smell in the downstairs loo, and my mother laying guilt trips several inches thick on me because we are at home and not visiting her and my father. A bit of editing, and it turns out we all live the kind of life of which dreams are made.

I think I'm going to start doing this as a regular mental exercise, to persuade myself life is indeed perfect. I will just refuse to acknowledge anything I do not like.

But it's so much more interesting to read about the sullen, grim reality. And more fun.

On Saturday morning, DP has an extra t'ai chi session (this is actually true) so I will take DD2 to her contemporary dance class. I prefer public transport, as it's so much better for the environment (ie I hate the Lewisham roundabout so we'll get the 47 bus to the Laban centre). DD1 will probably prefer to stay at home - so exciting for a 13 year old to enjoy her new independence (watching The Vampire Diaries). After a light lunch, probably Italian (ie pasta and pesto) I may do a little local shopping (go to Aldi) including books (I've got some gory novels on reserve at the library) and my big weakness is our quirky selection of vintage shops (charity shops) where I've picked up some delightful things (most of my possessions). In the evening we'll either watch a box set en famille (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) or I'll nip out to meet a few friends locally (go down the pub with drunken MNers). On Sunday we've got no plans (ie will sullenly allocate housework, homework and music practice) though a home-cooked lunch (sausages) will certainly feature and in my case a few glasses of rose wine (Aldi again). Alternatively, we may head out to the countryside (chivvy everyone into the car to drive to somewhere and trot briefly round before having cake) - and as Monday's a bank holiday, may indulge in another box set (continue Buffy-ing till our eyes drop out). I may catch up on a little urgent work on Monday morning (ie have deadlines coming out of every orifice) but am determined to have some Family Time in the afternoon (ie am buggared if my entire bank holiday is spent working so will sink a few glasses of wine belligerently over lunch) and then indulge in a siesta (crash sterterously with gory novels).

That made me cackle very hard, motherinferior.

It's about (in my case) how you spin "doing nothing"
In my head: "lounging around in PJs amongst a pile of toys drinking far too much coffee instead of either doing something useful or taking the dcs out to do something bracing and healthy outdoors"

In the colour supplement:

"after a really hectic week, the working day on Friday ending at 9.30 pm or later, Saturday mornings are our special time to take it easy as a family. My younger daughter has a passion for construction and I am really enjoying reconnecting with that, almost re-living my own childhood. My older daughter is always keen to try new drawing materials and techniques and we like to raid my art supplies and get creative"

blah blah blah - actually it's just not getting dressed and being surrounded by lego and pastels

At the weekends, we enjoy sourcing materials for our central London apartment, that we are in the process of renovating. (we had a row in B & Q over a loo seat and paint colours). Our daughters very much do their own thing at weekends, with DD2 spending a lot of time discussing a mutual project with a friend in Texas. (Minecraft.) DD1 enjoys exploring the bookshops of London (Forbidden Planet) where she buys books to help her with her research on modern media. (comics, lots of them) We have a good natured discussion in the evening about what ethnic food we want to try that weekend (We go online on Don’t Cook Just Eat to order a pizza) and often sit down en famille after dinner, to watch an old film, selecting one that will be of historical and cultural interest to the DDs. (Carry On Up The Khyber) We try to avoid shopping at the weekend, but it is inevitable that we will have to pop out to pick up a few bits. We prefer to shop locally, rather than order online. (There’s a Tesco round the corner, and the garage opposite supplies us with milk and emergency bottles of wine.) This weekend we will be going to visit family, in the beautiful Berkshire countryside, and will book at a small, little known village restaurant for lunch. (We’re going to the Star of India in the next village, because we can walk there.) We will enjoy a family high tea at the family’s little country cottage (plastic ham on sliced bread) before returning to London (several hours in a traffic jam on the M4, then nose to tail all through Fulham and Chelsea). Fortunately for us, we live inside the congestion zone, which means we don't have to pay the charge! Hoorah for central London living!

Is this the Fantasy life thread?

I've only glanced down the thread, but I can't help agreeing with the OP.

I'm deadly boring myself, and my weekends involve sleeping and putting spiders out of the bathtub. I know some people do have fun lives. I have a mate who's a bona fide artist's muse (and her children are fucking smart and photogenic), and another who's just got back from taking her preteen DD on the sort of trip most adult women would salivate over. I know someone whose home is fairly regularly in glossy magazines and someone else who is balancing TTC with being a war correspondent.

Thing is, none of them yak on about it like you see on here! They sound normal, not like they're making it all up with copies of Nigel Slater and Nigella in front of them.

But look what Nigella's perfect live turned into LRD.

My perfect life on the other hand involves a lazy Saturday morning, a whizz around Sainsburys, a sly latte on my own, a quick tidy round, cooking supper and a glass of wine watching Casualty. Sundays - church, chat, roast, bit more tidying.

Life on the wild side - might also include a twirl round the shops with dd and yet another episode of Buffy.

Ah, true enough near.

Your perfect life is more or less mine, except I prefer Game of Thrones.

I'm glad it's not just me who actually enjoys the cooking and so on. I don't really get people who don't like at least some of the active things.

Living on the extremities of Ireland's west coast we do well at ticking the nature boxes. This Sunday had us marching out to the lighthouse at the end of the Sheep's Head peninsula, with a roast dinner to follow.

There was also a 'coffee/local apple juice/scones in the sun at a café recommended in the last Jamie Oliver magazine' hour.

We'd have to miss out the spring clean, dh marking essays while we walked, litterpicking the village in torrential rain, and the sense of impending doom about work stuff. And the hours standing at the side of GAA pitches would need to sound more inspiring than they were.
..

my weekend wash dry iron and repeat mostly in my pjs i might add

I do feel better after reading this thread. Sometimes most saturday nights I fret that yet again DH and I have blobbed in front of the telly, eaten our bodyweight in crap, drunk a bottle of wine between us and fallen asleep by 9pm, when everyone else is having lovely parties and doing exciting things in cocktail dresses.

Good to know we are in fact normal and that the cocktail parties are only happening in the pages of the magazines.

We do go away for a lot of weekends, though, just dh and I. Off to the Bath Priory tomorrow for the long weekend. We still wont' talk to anyone other than waiters though