I've just typed the most miserable post in the world about what an awful mother I am but I've deleted it and decided to have a stab at something a bit more lighthearted.
Sorry to disappear yesterday, the phone conked out again and one of BT's two engineers serving the entire Northern Hemisphere has just trotted round and fixed the blardy thing. I enquired politely (in my pyjamas, toast stuck to my hair, Tild dangling off my right boob, Old MacDonald CD blaring in the background) whether it's likely to happen again and the chappie gave me the weariest, most fed-up look I have ever seen. Poor bloke, said he's been working since 6am and has another 45 jobs on his list.
Tild has 12 teeth, all came through in a matter of weeks after turning 1. No canines though but I suspect they're on their way judging by the acid nappies. Talking of acid nappies, there's the distinct smell of nuclear waste emanating from the smallest member of the clan. I'll try and type a bit more before I pass out...
Bit of a scary morning today. PC Plod was on 3pm-3am last night. I woke up at 6am and he wasn't home. Having no phone I obviously couldn't call and find out if he had been mown down by an errant tractor. He's out with the Big Boys as they call it, Incident Response to us normal folk. It being Friday night, all of Norfolk was on a crime spree whilst drunk, coked up and/or flashing. He eventually turned up at 8am. Turns out they had an urgent call regarding a yummy mummy in Kenya who was ill-advisedly drunk and shimmying. I don't need to tell you to hang your head as I suspect you're struggling to hoick it up anyway. I'm trying not to titter. He reassured me that if he was dead in a ditch I'd get a call straight away and the lack of contact was a good sign.
I neither know nor care what Legoland is. [pokeingouttongueemoticon] AM, your house is beautiful. I like your dining chairs. None of you lot that are going to Meadow Towers will ever come here, I'm ashamed. We don't own a single piece of furniture that wasn't given to us by somebody who couldn't be bothered to transport it to its rightful home, the refuse disposal plant. I'm of the 'chuck a tie-dyed throw over it, it'll be fine' school of decorating. Actually, it's true I've never bought a piece of furniture in my life. We only got married so people'd buy us some cutlery. I'm of your nursing chair. I dream of nursing chairs. If I get my book published, it's going to be my first purchase. The Tank is still feeding at least 5 times a day. It's a good job I like her.
PJ, I can't come because I can't get to Cambridge for ScootTheBioHazard to take me. DH is on nights so can't drive me and I don't have the train fare.