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Showing posts from August, 2012

Sad little wardrobe story

Ever wondered how you would notice that you are getting old? Apart from the greying hair and creaking joints and half a dozen attempts it takes to link the correct name to the child standing in front of you. Your own child.

Where does getting excited about a piece of furniture rank in the scale of getting-old-warnings? I suspect it would be up there with preferring sensible shoes; investing in a wine cellar; and agreeing with a play of reluctance to husband's wish to own a mid-life-crisis car, especially since it meant I could have a puppy! Does that mean that my mid-life-crisis is a dog? Or maybe that my mid-life has gone to the dogs?

Anyway, back to the wardrobe - not the one in Narnia; sadly - wouldn't that be fun! - but the one in our upgraded room in a delightful hotel in Norfolk.Yes! We were upgraded! The manageress put us in a larger room with bath, because "it was free" (otherwise unoccupied) that night.The warm, marble, floor tiles in the bathroom took some …

The best things in life are free

Defining 'Best' depends on the day; the time; the weather; how much sleep I've had the night before; whether someone else has finished all the chocolate; how many puddles of puppy wee I've had to mop up; whether or not I have to work tomorrow;  and how cold the wine is ... among other things.

As the song goes, these are a few of my favourite things:

a cold, wet nose snuffling into your neck when NBFLF (see previous blog) is carried out to the garden at 5.45am to 'do his business'and the way he curls himself into your arms for the journey back; his little whimpers trying to say, "The grass is cold, Mum. And wet! And my paws are damp and chilly."waking up two hours later with a child folded into the space left next to you in bed. Asleep.watching her stir.listening to her sleepy whisper, "I love you, Mummy."a hot shower.proper coffee. Hot! (not the one that resembles an oil slick, thick and separating, and foul; abandoned on the top of a cupboar…

Blogging when you can't ... and when you can

How to blog when you really can't blog?

How to write, when what you want to write, is a secret?

How to keep quiet, keep your kids quiet and their friends quiet?

Waiting is hard! Social networking silence is harder.

But worth it:



Littlest marked the occasion with a portrait:




We must be mad. Two dogs. Several children. Jobs!
We even read to our puppy




Walking The Dog or WTD needs to change to WTDs. Maybe.

And Four-Legged-Friend's nephew (!) needs a blog name ...
nephew-of-FLF or NOFLFlittle-FLF or LFLFsmaller-FLF or SFLFblonde-FLF or BFLFmini-FLF or MFLFI'll-never-be-as-big-as-the-original-FLF or INBABATOFLFI'll-be-boss-of-FLF-one-day or IBBOFLFODfeed-me-weetabix-and-I'm-happy-FLF or FMWAIHFLFdoesn't-mum-know-that-five-in-the-morning-in-play-time-FLF or DMKTFITMIPTFLFso-Dad-can-have-his-four-wheeled-mid-life-crisis-now-that-Mum's-got-me-FLF or SDCHHFWMLCNTMGMFLFI-like-a-better-quality-of-newspaper-to wee-on-FLF or ILABQONTWOFLFand while on the subject of newspa…