Who is Mrs Hinch?

33 years. Thirty three. All the threes.

That's a long time to have been at work. A lot of meetings, laughing, swearing and generally being with people. And earning a bit of a living.

So you can imagine how bloody weird it feels stopping, and stopping early. This wasn't in the plan. Well there's a thing; "the plan". Worth having one, but don't be surprised when it all goes tits-up.

Anyway, I digress. So here I am, for the first time in 33 years at home. All the time. And suddenly faced with running the house, keeping it stocked, cooking meals, sorting the washing ... all of that. Hell, we've even had to say goodbye to the cleaner.

I tell you what, it's bloody scary. If I overlook that we have a dwindling stock of loo-roll, the consequences (and the cleaning) are mine. No bread? Mr H, that's your fault. I'd rather be messing about with million pound projects than leaving the Mrs short on gin.

Wait, what? There are others in the house? Well yes, Mrs H, a gin-loving maths teacher (she loves both equally. Personally I'd need a vat of gin just to stand in front of a class of baying teenagers, but she actually ENJOYS it), and we have two young people (a lad and a lass, 14 and 16). Oh and a cat who is a bit thick and rather too good at catching and bringing in Live Things.

"So why are you now the Chief Cook & Bottle Washer, Mr H?" I hear you ask.

Answer: mental health.

"So you went a bit potty then?". Well, yes sort of.

A couple of years ago, our boy rapidly became very unwell. It's a story for another day, but he ended up in A&E a couple of times and ultimately too anxious to face school. Mrs H gave up full time teaching to be with him and that's the way it has been for the last 2 years. And now we've swapped for the sake of our own mental states. My turn to try to help him and to run the house. Gulp.

So here we are: at the beginning of something new. It's almost certainly going to be chaotic, laced with the challenge of trying to help our lad. There's going to be some laughs, some cheer and some tears. And I thought I might share these with you, friends to come on the journey with me. You in?

Love and elbow-grease,

Mr H

PS I was given this Pink Stuff as one of my leaving presents from work with the advice "Mrs Hinch swears by this". I'm very pleased for Mrs Hinch and her wonder pink salve. Who the bleeding hell is she?