Monday, 2 August 2010

Pink Pee, Gypsies and Any Old Iron

Monday already?!  How did that happen?  I now have five lovely followers, thanks ladies!

I am trying to convince Mr Right he wants to follow me too but I don't thinks he really approves of this social networking/blogging malarky, he has always been rather anti-Facebook, until I badgered him one too many times and he reluctantly signed up.  He doesn't do the Twitter thing either so I'm probably flogging a dead horse but what he doesn't see is that for most of the week, these social outlets are to me, just that, adult conversation where ordinarily there would be none (with the added bonus of not having to drag Paris Hilton's luggage allowance and a miniature version of said demanding diva to mother and baby groups or friend's houses!).

Sunday was one of those achieve-nothing-but-good-for-the-soul kind of days.  Took the kids to David Lloyd for a swim first thing and we had the pool to ourselves so we could pretend we were lottery winners for an hour which was fun.  Missy had her nap, Buster played in his room and Mr Right dutifully went off to the allotment whilst I conjured up roast beef with all the trimmings.  All our efforts in the shed at home yesterday were ironically undermined by the fact that our shed at the allotment had been broken into during the week, we obviously have nothing of value as they didn't take anything but others on the site weren't so fortunate.

Mr Right did his hunter/gatherer bit and returned with loads of spuds, onions, garlic, beans and beetroot.  I roasted the beets in the oven along with some spuds, onions, parsnips, sweet potatoes and carrots and they were delish, although I did forget that I had eaten quite a few and had a bit of a beetroot/toilet related incident this afternoon and thought I was dying.

This morning Buster was up with the lark as he was super excited because he is off with my parents in their gypsy caravan for a week and he kept updating me with how many hours it was until he was off and every item he was going to pack, anyway, the time came for him to depart and we said our goodbyes and I'm surprised to say that I had a little cry after he'd gone.  He's been away a few times in the van and on loads of overnight stays so I don't know what that was all about, needless to say I needed a cuppa and some chocolate but I don't keep any in the house or I would be the size of a house so I had to resort to raiding the tuck box.  The tuck box is a plastic tub of chemicals that rarely contains anything I would even think about eating without a trained dentist and diabetic nurse in attendance but I was so desperate I had a rummage.  The only thing remotely chocolaty were a handful of Halloween (yes they were that old!) foil-wrapped eyeballs and by the time I had removed the silver-leaf-like wrappers one fluttery square millimetre at a time my tea was cold, I'm ashamed to say I still ate them anyway.
I had a visit from a smiley and very pregnant Eastern European lady at lunchtime.  She had won the bidding on our baby car seat on eBay and had come to collect the merchandise.  We had arranged her visit via email and I had asked her what time she would arrive, she sent a message back saying 12am, thankfully that was a typo and she seemed pretty pleased with her purchase.  I was pretty pleased to be getting rid of such a bulky bit of tat.

I am beginning to hate lunch times, Missy has taken to storing her sarnie in the roof of her mouth and then choking on it and spitting it out.  I have tried cutting it up into mouse-sized portions and giving it to her in finger form to feed herself but short of liquidising it I'm at a bit of a loss, I never had this problem with Buster.  She has also learned to poke food out with her tongue and does this at every opportunity.  Buster didn't help by laughing at her every time she did it! As a punishment I made him feed her her yogurt but he seemed to quite enjoy it and she reciprocated by making her happy R2D2 noises at him.  Perhaps I'm surplus to requirements?!

The rag 'n' bone man was doing his rounds this afternoon, he seems to come round every fortnight ringing his bell, do other areas still have a rag 'n' bone man or did they die out in the 1970s?  I didn't have 'any old iron' but a friend suggested I do what she does and offer up the kids as a form of bad behaviour deterrent, I will bear it in mind!

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