RAGE. My DS's marvellous Easter hat creation looks like a tiny, shabby pile of shite next to the other creations on the 'hat table'. One of which was a yellow sombrero decorated with massive ostrich feathers by the art director dad of the girl DS declared last night he was going to marry.
Next year I'm starting in January on an intricate filigree birdcage containing faberge eggs. Take that, mofos.
He had his Perform class show last night. He scowled his way through it, telling us off for clapping or even smiling in his general direction. When I could actually see it, that is. Another mum parked herself in the middle of the front row and filmed the Entire Show on her phone, holding it at face height, with its cover open, thus blocking the view for anyone behind her. In the end I huffed and stood up at the back.