What ho crepeys. I am slapping my thigh at the very thought of your boots, CV. A thigh I fear is far too lardy to be highlighted in such beauties, unlike your coltish limbs.
Having a very lovely half term with my very lovely DS. Tuesday to nearby park (Wanstead, seat of tragically vanished Wanstead House, the finest palladian mansion outside Versailles, apaz) then swimming, Wednesday to the Barbican for fun-packed adventure trail, then Shaun the Sheep (three out of five stars), then pizza, then to Epping Forest for muddy pursuits, lunch in the Brewers Fayre (bloody lovely) and massive gossip with good pal. Who I discovered has only 5% thyroid function, and is on hefty doses of thyroxine every day.
DS is being so delightful at the moment, despite increasingly probing questions about where babies come from (I don't think 'special cuddle' is going to hold him for long), and continuing morbid thoughts. As FB followers will note, he said 'After you've died and become a twinkle, I'll die and become a twinkle too, and we can wave and say hello and be together forever'. I had to do some pretty hefty staring into the distance and blinking for a while.
No holidays in the offing here. Though my thoughts are turning in that direction...