Me? Scared of you lot? I snort at the suggestion (whilst hiding behind my sofa).
And you Scottish bird, my wellies trump your wellies. They have fish on them.
So... where have I been? You wouldn't believe it if I told you, lives in danger, would have to kill you first etc. Erm, I moved. 5 miles east of where we lived before. Or in Norfolk terms, about 17 fields, 78 cows and a blue tit away.
Saw a very pretty looking house on t'Interweb, went to look at said pretty house, liked said house and its prettiness very much indeed, moved in two weeks later. 6 weeks later we're still unpacking.
Tis a beautiful house. If you look up remote in the dictionary you'll see a picture of our new abode, probably with me next to it, smiling, waving, eating a gingerbread man. Or maybe just in my dictionary where I've scribbled such a picture in childish merriment. We have beautiful views of fields, sheep, a church spire, a turnip field, some trees, hedges, blue tits and very, very many tractors. We do in fact live on a working farm and even better, we have a working fireplace. Oh the joys of burning things... Our neighbours, well some folks who live about a mile away have really adopted the Royston Vasey-esque quality of living in such a small community. In their very large and constantly illuminated porch there is- I want to say effigy/papier mache but I fear the word I'm looking for is 'stuffed'- highway patrol man. A life-size, uniformed US highway patrol chappy. As I run past the home with Mathilda hidden under my coat lest they steal her and corrupt her I swear I can hear them cackling 'we didn't kill him'. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
I am yet to acquire myself a pig but we have planted an apple tree. I can't stretch to tenuous connections between apple trees and pigs but if I could I'd be sure to include an aside on pork and apple sauce.
Have started the book, it's progressing very slowly as Mathilda thinks pens and papers are playthings/food.
Mathilda is tickety boo. Weighs something ridiculous like 26lb, still breastfeeding, almost walking (I think controlled stumbling is a better description), eats anything and everything you put in front of her/she steals from your plate/finds on the floor/isn't nailed down/is made out of fluff, doesn't sleep, refused to nap, can reprogramme the television if you leave the remote unattended and can say a grand total of three things. Dada. Mama. And mer mer (milk!). Can sign lots and lots of things though.
Oh how I have missed you all. I want an update on all proceedings since Christmas in neat bullet points. Haven't read through yet. LG&T can do it, she has little else occuring in her life. Mwahahahaha.
So... shall I resume the pirate porn?
Bet you didn't even notice I'd gone.
Will update pics with ones of the little person in her stunning new hat and the new house.
Will shut up for now. LG&T, the spare room awaits your visit... Anybody else fancy a visit, you're very welcome. Drive through Suffolk, abandon all valuables on the border, enter Norfolk, keep going, drive forever, see nothing, go past the sheep, that rather attractive woman in patchwork eating gingerbread is your host for the weekend. The huge baby behind her eating things off the carpet is sorely neglected because her mother has rediscovered Mumsnet.