Interesting about swimming, Amber. I had been wondering how to get Wriggle to swim, since I never managed to learn, as I do not float. I suspect other people don't, either, and it's simply a mass illusion which would cease the minute anyone shattered it.
I have bought a swimming costume, the first since school, and sometimes go and stand in a swimming pool with her, which she quite enjoys, but she does spend a lot of her time trying to climb out of the water, rather in the manner of a spider in the bath, up onto my head if necessary.
I missed Daisy's flood story, but have my own happy childhood flood remeniscences (sp) of sitting in my bedroom window on long rainy days, watching cars whizz down the lane to Brickyard Bottom just past our house and, a few minutes later, whine dejectedly back up in reverse, or, even better, be towed out by tractor. Once, the story went, a man left his wife sitting marrooned in the car while he went to the farmer next door to locate a tractor. The farmer was a hospitable sort, and when they finally reeled out to the tractor to retrieve wife, they found her sitting on the roof of the car, surrounded by swirling water...maybe not best pleased.
Catita, I don't know about you, but Splenda will stay in my diet, otherwise I will have an obesity problem. I sometimes put it on fruit, too. Fruit is so sour in England. When we go to France and buy fruit in the market, or even the supermarket, it is always unrecognisably wonderful.
Redbush tea would be lovely, Amber. How is Mr A doing?