THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS..?

...Or, Dreaming Can be Bad for your 'Elf *

* sorry about that

It was Christmas Eve-Eve and I was woken by a nightmare.
A really sinister, dark and scary nightmare.  It was Surrealistically Realistic - in that it was definitely odd and entirely weird but somehow plausible.

Anyway, I won't go into Dream Details as, although I find my own deeply fascinating, I recognise they are dull as ditchwater to everyone else.

However, it is fair to say that I woke up thoroughly spooked by Elves.

'TIS THE SEASON...

... Or, Not Now with the Bad Back!

I just know you are feeling my pain - although hopefully not in a literal sense.

You know what they say about the best laid plans..?  Well this week was all sorted - Mr W (thankfully on leave from work)  and I were going to prepare the house and all the bits for Christmas in a relaxed and orderly fashion...and then enjoy the time off with the kids.

CHRISTMAS CRAFT MARKET AND OTHERS THINGS ...

... I am Ill-Prepared For.

Aaaah, s'beautiful. 

I am sure I am not alone, but at the moment I am entirely Beneath my list of Things To Do.
On Top Of is something I can only dream about.

I am half way through about a mazillion jobs - including Putting Up the Christmas Decs.  A job I love and usually apply myself diligently to until it is done.   We have already bought and erected our tree - which is somewhat broader in the beam than we realised.  We were well on the way to owning the world's first Spherical Nordmann Fir until some judicious prunage gave us a little more leg room in the lounge.  (I never call it a 'lounge' usually, but 'Living Room' after 'Leg Room' seemed like I was saying 'room' too much.  Something I would never do.)

A HOUSE GUEST...

...And A Most Magnificent Thank You Letter

We are currently enjoying the company of a House Guest.  Our thirteen year old Nephew, Jack, is staying for the weekend while his parents are in Norway.

Norway!

Even with my sketchy knowledge of Geography I know that Norway is in Scandinavia - and I am the Scandi-lover, dammit! 

IWANNAGOTONORWAYTOOOOOOOOOO*whine*

Anyway, of course I am not bitter - I am far too marvellous for that :o) - and I am happy to care for their First Born while they are lording it up away.

TO QUOTE GRANNY WEATHERWAX ... 'I ATEN'T DEAD'

Or...What the sam heck have I been doing then?

 

 

 

I have no excuses...well, actually, I have loads - but I won't trouble you with them here :o)

 

 

Thanks to everyone for their kind messages and concerned notes and please be assured that normal service will be resumed as soon as humanly possible.

 

Perhaps in the meantime you could read/start to read/re-read one of Sir Terry Pratchett's marvellous Discworld novels.  One including witches, I'd recommend.  

 

Back soon!  



 



IT MAY BE NOVEMBER...BUT REMEMBER, REMEMBER...

 

...Or, Well Hallo(we'en) Again!

 

I know, Hallowe'en has been and gone - and, in England at least, most people have moved on to Bonfire Night preparations - but I can't resist dragging it out a little longer.

It's been a busy week with all The Family home, and certainly our most Time-Consuming Project was the Haunted Gingerbread House. 

FUEL RULES...

Behave!  All right?

...Or, Life's a Gas

Petrol Station Etiquette?  Familiar with this?  I thought I was.

I guess we are all up to speed with the General Rules.
It is for Safety Reasons, for example, that mobile phones and car engines should be switched off.
Ditto the whole Not Smoking thing.
It is General Good Manners that we don't bimble around the shop for half an hour if there is a queue a mile long waiting for fuel due to an erstwhile petrol shortage.
Unless I am missing something, I thought that was about it.
You park your car, you fill it up with fuel, and you pay.

Apparently I am wrong.

GHOULIES AND GHOSTIES AND LONG-LEGGED BEASTIES...

Or...It's Starting to Look a Lot Like Hallowe'en

 

"This is Hallowe'en, this is Hallowe'en...Pumpkins scream in the dead of night."
 
Danny Elfman and Tim Burton, eh?  You've gotta love 'em.

Okay, so it's not actually Hallowe'en yet.  But that doesn't mean I'm not preparing for it.  Because I am. 
In fact, I usually prepare for Hallowe'en from around November 1st.

DECORATING...

...Or, The Sometimes Interesting Effects of Paint Fumes

Yep, recently I have been 'decorating'.  I use the inverted commas purely to highlight the fact that it might not be everyone's idea of decorating.  No carefully selected ornaments, accent colours or wall art here.  Just everything out of the room, a couple of coats of paint on walls and woodwork, and everything back in the room. Sometimes even before the paint's dry.

It works for us.  Luckily our house is old and rustic and so can take this wanton approach.

The reasons for this re-decoration spurt ... (I say 'spurt' -  again, might not be everyone's idea of a spurt.  But two rooms in the space of a couple of months is a spurt as far as I'm concerned) ... Yes, the reasons for this spurt are manyfold.
And here (in No Particular Order, as the lovely Dermot O'Leary would have you believe) they are...

COOKING WITH KIDS . . .

Or...The Trouble with Cooking with Kids

(I am of course referring to the act of cooking alongside children.  Not using them as an ingredient).

Nothing can be finer, can it, than spending time cooking with your kids?

Well, yes, frankly - plenty of things are finer.  Earwax removal... Filing Tax Returns...Paper-Cuts....

I am quite sure there are about a gerzillion parents who adore cooking with their offspring.

I am not one of them.

In the heady days of Summer Last I made the mistake of declaring in public that I would teach each of my children to cook.  I can laugh now...

ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT...

Or...A Night Away - Featuring Doctor Who, Fans, and Fish and Chips

During the hottest week of the summer holidays, Mr W and I were invited to a wedding which was to be held in Warwick.  I love a Wedding, I love Warwick, and I love staying in Hotels, but perhaps it didn't bode well that it took us three attempts to sign in. 

Each different form - that had us listed variously as Dr and Mrs Hudson of Milton Keynes or one Ms Lambeth from Hull - was presented with such confidence that I started to wonder if we were in fact all those people.

Our room was a bit on the small side, with only about 4 inches clearance between the end of our bed and the wall.  For reasons best know to themselves, it had been decided by the Proprietors that this was the wall upon which the full-length mirror should be placed. 
This would be fine if you were Flat Stanley. Unfortunately, I am not.
 

INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE...

...Or, Learning a Musical Instrument at School.

( Oooh!  Talking about music on the day that, Google informs me, would be Clara Schumann's 193rd birthday.  Spoooooky.)


The start of another school year - and once again it is time for the Curriculum Meeting with the teachers.  Just one meeting for me this year as, for the first time in about a trillion years, I only have one child at Primary School.

I quite enjoy these sessions - reading down the list of planned trips and projects I'm my daughter is going to have to do over the next few weeks,

And I'm such a nostalgist (is that a word?) I love harking back to my own projects on 'Milk' and 'Beethoven' and...actually, that's all I can remember.

SPECIAL DELIVERY...?

...Or, Is This What They Mean by Over-Packaged?

The whole thing started with confusion. 

I got home from the School Run to find a Yodel Delivery Service ticket on my doormat, bearing the legend that they Missed Me Today (aah, sweet) when they had tried to deliver. 
But all was not lost - they had helpfully left my parcel 'With The Neighbour at No.10'.

Not my actual Yodel Ticket

Great.  Except we are No.10.

TIM BURTON

Or...My Latest Hero To Make it into The Hall

(I tried to rename my Hall of Heroes 'People I Would Like to be Stuck in an Old-Fashioned Train Carriage With'.  But it made the tab at the top waaaaay too long)

It is often suggested to me, by Mr W, that I should update my Hall of Heroes a little more regularly.

Indeed, No.1 Son (aged 14) inferred that it was more a Lobby than a Hall...

So, swelling the ranks today is the Wonderful Mr Tim Burton *sigh*.

Go.  Enjoy.  He's great.

THE DOG WITH IMPA...

Or...the continuing tale of the DoNotBreakTheDog dog

I finally got round to updating Witch's story on The Dog(Don't Break It) page.   So now we are fully up to date, up to speed and the dog is probably up to no good as I type.

This instalment starts at the sub-heading 'Get it on film..' - to save you the trauma of re-reading the first bit :)

**I'm almost entirely sure there must be a way to add a link to a heading, but I'm darned if I can work it out.  Any advice would be greeted with an almost embarrassing display of gratitude**

EDUCATIONAL GAMES FOR CHILDREN...

Or...What I learnt about my Daughter

(In fact, should that be 'learned'..?)

Cute, eh?  So is my daughter.
Also evil.

After dinner, while still sitting around the table, I decided it would be nice to play a game together.  Mindful of the long summer holiday which has been filled with way too much computer game time, I wanted to think of something that would encourage our three children to perhaps use their brains a little.

Baby Steps first though, I thought  (also, this was the best I could come up with.  Perhaps someone else needs to challenge their brain a little, hmm?) - and with an enthusiasm in my voice usually reserved for chocolate/mallow-based snacks, I said...

WORLD'S SMALLEST SNAIL...?

Or, What the Sam Heck was this doing in my kitchen?

Is this the teeniest snail in the world?

Lookee here - just found this bimbling along on my kitchen sink. (Yeah. I know.  Best not dwell on that).  His name is Leonardo.

But how did he get there?

LAST DAY OF THE LONDON OLYMPICS...

...or, Why am I such an Idiot?

About a hundred years ago, when Mr W rang to tell me he was bidding for tickets for the London Olympics, I told him I was really not bothered about going.   I enjoyed the Asterix book, but otherwise I'm not really interested in the Olympics.


Why am I such an Idiot?

THIS IS BIGGER THAN BOTH OF US

There is only one problem with Wagon Wheels, in my opinion.

One isn't enough. 

So one has to ask  whhhhy the Good People at the Burton Biscuit Co. came up with these?

NOT THE MOST SUCCESSFUL WALK EVER...

I have lived in Ruralish-shire for longer than I've lived anywhere else.

Unless you count the 6 months I spent as a Redcoat at Butlin's Bognor Regis (oh the heights to which I've climbed...) I have actually only ever lived in two places.  Here in Ruralish-shire, and also the town where I was born and grew up - Romford. 
This, my friends, is variously described as being in Greater London, Essex or, more baffling (to me at least), the East End of London.  I give you this information to highlight the fact that I am basically a Townie.

You might think that 24 years spent in the countryside would bring out the Wood Sprite in me, but no.  I'm still bothered being in a field I can see no end to - and absolutely terrified of livestock.  (And I include bugs, insects and some plants in that category).

All this may go some way to explain the following...

IT AIN'T OVER TIL THE FAT LION SINGS...

I have just eaten a slice of toast and marmalade and am the right side of a Hot Chocolate with Marshmallows (pink and white) even though I was neither hungry nor thirsty
I am a comfort eater. 
This is not news to me.

I've just got back from No.2 Son's Primary School Leavers' Assembly. The event I've been dreading since No.1 Son's Leavers' Assembly three years ago.

I DON'T THINK MY SON'S TEACHER LIKES ME...

Our Secondary school uses a 'platform' website (I have no idea) to send email message alerts and to set homework etc.

This week I got one such alert informing me that No.1 Son 'may have been marked absent' and that I should check on the website for more details.



I found a few bits of homework that should have been completed several years ago, but could I find anything on the website about attendance?  I could not. 

I Will Never, Ever, Garden Again...

I have never been much of a gardener anyway...

...Unless you count that one year when I had a thriving vegetable plot.  But that was very much a 'Dig for Victory'  WWII fantasy I was living out, coinciding with the 50th Anniversary of VE Day.

No, Gardening and I have always been Uneasy Bedfellows - I don't do creepy crawlies, damp earth, dry earth, hard work, bugs ...  Also, it makes my skin itch.  Not sure if that's psychosomatic or an actual allergy to something - possibly the 'hard work'.

But, I could no longer ignore that the Shed at the End of the Garden with Clematis Attached, had become Clematis At The End of the Garden with Shed Attached.  So I gritted my teeth, donned my Gardening Gear (Oh yeah, I've got all the stuff), found the secateurs and climbed my Ikea Step Stool ready to do battle.

As I mentioned in a earlier post, I have been casting around for a new name for The Husband.  Although Best Beloved worked for a while (a very short while) it wasn't long before it started grating on me.
Don't get me wrong - he is The Best, and he is also Beloved.  It's just that the name has been used elsewhere and so . . . well, I wanted a fresh and original name for him.
(Turns out BB grated on him too.  But he never said!  Aaaah, sweeeet.)

So. . . I would like to announce that The Husband Previously Known as 'BB' or 'Best Beloved' will now be referred to as . . .

Mr W.

I know. 
Fresh and  Original.

Darn, I'm good.

OVERHEARD. . .

Now I really wouldn't want you to think that I go around eavesdropping, because really I don't.  Although ... there is a lot to be said for being 'aware', I always say.
(It comes from reading so many books about WWII Resistance and the S.O.E - but more on that later). 

It's just sometimes you don't so much 'overhear' things, as have them thrust upon you. . .


I was recently in a Hospital Waiting Room...waiting for The Husband.(Sometimes known as BB, but am currently auditioning different titles for him).

- I seem to start a lot of posts with Hospital Waiting Rooms.  Anyway....

There I was, minding my own business, deep in the pages of my current book about WWII when in came a couple (a man and a woman) who were really rather pleased with themselves. 
Lots of hair-flicking and teeth flashing and effortlessly shabby-chic clothing.

DOG DAY AFTERNOON (must look up what that means...)

A post about the Dog after whom this Blog is named. 
I know.  Wild.

The casual passer-by might well wonder why the blazes this blog is called 'Do Not Break the Dog' -  since it doesn't seem to be about dogs at all, apart from my shamefully neglected 'The Dog' page. 

Well today all that changes. 
For one day, at least.

Just a brief bit of background to get you up to speed:

Our dog, Witch,  was diagnosed with IMPA (Immune-Mediated Poly-Arthritis) when she was just about 1 year old.  She has been having treatment ever since - LOADS of drugs - and is so far not responding as well as we all might have hoped.  She is a lot better than she was, thankfully, but she certainly doesn't move in the way you'd expect for a dog of her age, and she tends to react badly when her drug dosage is decreased. 
Her condition, and the treatment for it, have led to muscle wastage - and exercise can cause her pain and discomfort.

A-n-y-w-a-y...that's enough background, on to the . . . front ground?

OOH I SAY...GET ME!

I am feeling a little nerve-wracked because I have just published my FIRST EVER Guest Post on another Blog.  Ooooooooeerrrrrrr.

Tree with Bunting.
(For no particular reason)

My dear friend, Weezafish, was CRUELLY burgled last week and asked me to explain her subsequent Radio Silence on her Blog - and also bung a post of my own up there too. 

How very kind of her to think me fit, eh?

So, if you are intrigued, do go take a look.
If you are not, then I shall simply wish you a very happy day.

In fact - what the hey! To one and all, a Happy Day!
(I am getting quite prolific with these poems).

IF THIS IS WRONG . . .

On the subject of 'If This is Wrong - I Don't Want to be Right', I offer my method of

Eating A 'Tunnock's Tea Cake'.

After the careful removal of a section of the chocolate shell, use a Gentle Hooking Action with the finger of your choice (preferably one of your own) to remove (and eat) all of the sticky sweet innards.

Ta da!

Cup of tea in Union Jack mug is entirely optional.  Although it does, in my opinion, enhance the whole experience.

But - hold the phone - what is this?!  Has the entire universe shifted on its axis? 

SHE'S A DIAMOND...

Bunting Fever!  I've totally got it.  Actually, I have always had it -  but I have well and truly taken advantage of the Diamond Jubilee celebrations this (long holiday) weekend and bedecked the homestead with  small pennants of red, white and blue.


I got really caught up in the celebrations too.  Not as in dressing as a Pearly Queen, hauling my derriere to London and declaring a lifetime's devotion to the Crown - but in a quiet appreciation (which I suppose is quite British in itself). 
Not just of HM the Q, but of Britain too (ooh, a poem!)

We were lucky enough, where I live at least, to have a couple of weeks of gorgeous weather in the run up to the Jubilee Loooooong Weekend.   Union Jack bunting flapping against bright blue skies would surely put anyone in a jubilant mood?

And that's not all. 

MAY...OR MAY NOT BE TRUE

Another mug photo.  I like mugs.

Best Beloved needed to be taken to  hospital the other day for a Procedure (least said, soonest mended) so I had to wait in the hospital cafe until he was ready to be driven home.

Finding the cafe was easy enough.  Locating the Way In, however, was like a Krypton Factor Aptitude Test.
But find it I did, and I purchased a small Cappucino to celebrate.

I had a bag full of books to while away the hours - covering everything from World War II to the Second World War - and, I'm very glad to say, a notebook and pen.

But why so glad about the notebook and pen? I hear you cry.

MAKING A SPECTACLE OF MYSELF...

Something terrible happened.  Today I stole some Reading Glasses.
O.M.G (as teenagers and other cool types are wont to type).

But it was an accident, Your Honour, honestly!

I was standing in the (long) queue at the Pharmacists, expecting to collect a prescription, idly trying on the reading glasses when I realised,

*#@%@#*!

Ikea - Swedish for 'Fickle'?

It's okay everyone!  It's all o-kay.

Yep, me and Ikea are back 'on'.  Reunited and fully loved-up.  (Actually I think it may be rather more one-sided than that).

In true Viking spirit, Best Beloved braved rush-hour traffic in a foreign land (well, Essex actually) and brought home the spoils of his endeavours.

6  x Insert with Door - White 

I am happy to announce that I have un-disowned the Ikea Family.

Fickle?  Moi?

Ikea - Swedish for 'Frustration'?

Trying to focus on my love for Scandinavia after a disappointing experience with Ikea.

http://wikitravel.org/en/Scandinavia

The love began..well I'm not absolutely sure actually, but I have always loved tales of cold lands, candlelit windows; and I especially love the beginning of The Witches (by Roald Dahl) film - although not the ending because that's just plain wrong, but that's a whole other gripe.

Anyhoo, my love deepened following a trip to Copenhagen with the Best Beloved.  Oh my sweet lord, I actually cried on the train leaving the city - not big ol' heaving sobs, but tears nonetheless. 

Total, total love...(sigh).

But listen to me!  Digressing all over the place!

SUPER NEW PROFILE PICTURE!

A Great Big Thank You to Piers Harper* for my swanky new specially-designed-for-me profile picture!

Ta-da!

It only took me an hour and a half to work out how to change the old profile picture - so give me a few years and you'll be seeing my cheeky little logo all over this blog.

*Piers is a published children's book illustrator who is currently working on his own line of e-books.  You can find his brand-new website here.

RANDOM

Well it's been a funny old week, all a bit random.  So, rather than try to ravel each thread into something a bit more cohesive, I am Embracing the Random and posting it all here.

Not strictly speaking a bush, but hedge. 

Bush Feeding Lady
Okay, that could go in all sorts of directions - but here is what happened. 
Walking The Dog the other day , we lingered a-while on the bridge over the river.  We do this a lot as Dog likes to look at the ducks (and I like to look out for any scary looking hounds I may need to hide from).   Only on this particular occasion there was not a single duck to be seen. 
And yet, on the other side of the bridge (the Cyclists side, for shame!) was a lady throwing copious amounts of bread with an impressive over-arm action.
As subtly as I could (turning up the collar of my mac, whistling casually and inwardly cursing that I couldn't remember the theme tune to The Third Man) I sidled over to see what she had found to feed.
Perhaps some early ducklings? I do so love a duckling. 
But no...

ART 'N' CRAFT CLUB

Two posts on the bounce on the theme of Crafting?  Why, surely I am spoiling you . . .(?!)

Yes, after-school Art & Craft Club has started up again (I took a break after Christmas due to family commitments) and our first session was on Tuesday afternoon.

I was quite looking forward to it, a new batch of 6 victims children eager to express themselves through the medium of whatever I bung on the table.

Trouble was, this week turned out to be rather more miss than hit. 
As it was a brand new group, I decided to keep things simple so I could get a feel for the mixed range of abilities.   I had fond memories of drawing with wax candles as a child and then covering it with a wash of paint.  I still think it's epic now, watching the invisible wax drawing come to the fore, as if by magic (it's true, I don't get out much).

So off I went to school, spring in my step, song on my lips, unfeasibly heavy Craft Bag hanging from the crook in my arm...

FEELING A BIT CRAFTY...



http://www.patonsyarns.com

I've always wished I could crochet - ever since Junior school when one of the older girls showed me how to make a chain using just my fingers (and wool, obviously).  This kept me satisfied for a while, but there are only so many things you can do with a long single chain of wool. 
How lovely, I thought, to be able to sit in the evening and make crocheted blankets and throws for family and friends.  (Cue gazing whistfully off into the middle distance).

So last night I decided to stop my whistful thinking - and start learning. 

Luckily I had all the necessary equipment to hand, as Phase 1 of Learning to Crochet was completed some 18 months ago with the procurement of a Glossy Mag entitled 'Learn How to Crochet - It's Really Easy', or something equally misleading.

FRIDAY 13TH ! ! !

Friday 13th!  Eeeeeek.

Okay, so that was yesterday , but I thought it made for an exciting opener.
Not that any thought was given to ill-fortune in this house anyway - because Friday 13th was the day one of my favourite people got married.

Don't they make a lovely couple?

Despite gloomy forecasts the weather was beautiful and we got to the venue in Woodstock, Oxfordshire in good time to catch them coming out after the ceremony. 
While we were waiting I took the opportunity to line up a few shots with my new (birthday present) camera.
Gradually more well-wishers* arrived to join us and we all stood, staring fixedly at the mighty double-doors, as the time the happy couple would emerge grew ever closer.

Then it struck me.

What if those doors aren't the ones they'll come through? 

MAKING A CLEAN BREAST OF IT

Last night I went with a friend to clean her rental cottage in a village close to where we live.  Anyone who knows me well would probably die laughing gently smirk to themselves at the thought of me helping to clean anything. 

Cleaning and me are unhappy bedfellows. 

I will be entirely up front - I really, really, really don't like cleaning my house.  Or my car.

In fact -  I hate cleaning.  I will do anything to put it off,  and even the things I do which are supposed to help me clean hinder me. 

A regular method of mine is to gee myself along by blasting out a load of show tunes on Spotify once all my cleaning materials are lined up on the kitchen table. 
Result?

EASTER VISITORS

Easter in our house is not a major event like, say, Christmas or the World Cup, but it is quite a peaceful time for us all to spend a few days together; catching our breath after the barrage of birthdays that befall us twixt the beginning of February and the end of March.



My Easter Table Centrepiece.
Tasteful, no?
No...I know.



Easters at Grandma and Grandpa's are a tad busier - with country walks, decorating eggs with fabric scraps, flowers and onion skins (really, the results are lovelier than you might imagine), church on Sunday and an afternoon Easter Egg Hunt - before collapsing, completely exhausted and stuffed with food.

With my default setting being 'Basically Lazy', Easter at home is rather more centred around loafing.  Indeed, thanks to the generally relaxed atmosphere on Good Friday, it was 8pm before anyone even thought about dinner - and that, in the absence of any better ideas, consisted of a bowl of breakfast cereal each.

PROUD TO BE DIRTY!

I knew it would happen eventually...all I needed was a little patience.



From the Daily Telegraph

The headline, or by-line (or whatever the billybobthornton they're called) screamed at me from the morning paper.  Yes!  Yes, I will.  My car hasn't been washed since Mother's Day 2011 and, to be honest, I was feeling pretty bad about it.

But I shouldn't.  And it's official.

Apparently, in the light of recent water-use restrictions, Thames Water are issuing bumper stickers with the message, 'Proud to be dirty'.

Derren Brown - Hall of Heroes

Derren Brown
Lovely, ain't he?

Not a post, not really.  More an update.

I've added DB to my Hall of Heroes. 

Bit concerned my Hall is not ever so very user-friendly.  Anyone know how to do it like a Home Page?  With jump breaks and the like?

Anyone...?

:)

It's Good Friday - Easter Cake Competition

I am having a proud moment, and feel duty bound to inflict it on share it with the good users of the World Wide Web.

No.3 child - the 9 year old girl one - won the Key Stage 2 (what used to be called Juniors when I was at school) Easter Cake Competition.

So, for your delight and general bemusement, I give you

The Prize-Winning-Easter-Cake

"Bunny Race"

All her own work :)







Bless her, I'm so proud

The Dog . . . the next instalment

Witch the Cockerpoo
In Bed with Mrs Cow Toy

Just in case anyone's interested, I have updated 'The Dog - Don't Break it' page.

The next thrilling instalment is entitled...'After the Operation'. 

I must warn you - it's not exactly dripping with laughs :)

The Unkindest Cut . . ?

It's been haircuts all round in our house.  Well almost all round .  The dog was done on Monday, and the Daughter and the No.1 Son were done yesterday.  (I hardly need mention - I hope! - that the cuts took place in different establishments). 
The kids are happy with theirs, and the Dog is happy with everything, especially if it comes with cheese.

Before
(Which one's the rug?)

After
(What happened to the other rug?)

I, on the other hand, had my hair cut on my birthday, and it is only now - some 8 weeks later -  that I am able to talk about it without weeping uncontrollably.

(I'm kidding.  Well...kind of). 

It was not, as you've probably gathered, a good cut. 

Stalker Tendencies

Becoming a leeeetle concerned.

Climbing into the car with the kiddies after school, I overheard a Mum talking to her child as they walked past.   (The car windows were open - it has been very warm for March).

And Mum says, "We must go straight  home - Uncle Derren is cutting the grass."

Some Grass

 ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Derren ?   Really ? ?  As in one of my heroes? ? ?

(See my Heroes page.  Later though, I haven't put him on there yet).

The inscrutable Mr Derren Brown of Mind-Melding and Pointy Beard fame?  Whose sleight of brain and sharpness of hand have enthralled and delighted me since first I clapped eyes on him?

SCOOP! HENRY HOOVER – PEEPING TOM

I was in a shop changing room the other day, and was already feeling vulnerable. 

I freely admit to being the kind of person who peers up at the ceiling tiles suspiciously;  convinced that beings lurk behind them, snooping down at me in my semi-clad state. 

I don't tend to linger in these places.  Indeed I try to be as quick as possible, not least because the less time spent in front of a mirror in my undies the better.