It is very late. I have to get up very early. This is alright because I am getting up very early to do another of my sporadic running away to London days. These days are actually clustering at the moment, and by next Saturday I will be doing my third running away to London day in a week.
Despite it being very late and me having to get up very early I still feel compelled to clutter up the blogosphere with not much of anything at all.
In no particular order.
Derek caught a frog this evening, which she released excitedly under the Chaise Longue of Death (TM) when she realised that a mouthful of frog tastes just about as disgusting as you would imagine. It leapt off into a corner and Derek and I spent an exciting ten minutes playing hunt the frog thereafter.
Derek found it first, and I found it next by following Derek and the pitiful squeaks the frog was emitting every time Derek poked the frog.
I released the frog back into the wild, thinking of St. Francis of Assisi and how this would be bound to garner me Brownie points somewhere with someone.
Derek ran around the house for the next forty minutes worrying at the legs of the Chaise Longue of Death (TM) in the manner of a terrier intent on disembowelling a rat.
She is now flopped out on the landing, exhausted by her efforts and depressed by her frogless state.
Oscar has a blister on his foot. As he is a true hypochondriac he decided he might be paralysed, and came running over to tell me. This confirmed my diagnosis that he was merely being a raging hypochondriac. He refused to acknowledge the family-wide lack of sympathy for his plight, found an old walking stick from the dressing up box, and proceeded to hobble around, sighing dramatically, until right about the time that Tilly and he crashed into each other and he hurt his knee, and had other things to think about.
None of which were taken seriously either.
I applied the traditional homeopathic remedy of a chocolate Hob Nob and a few unsympathetic words. It worked a treat.
Ten minutes later, when he thought nobody was looking, he was sproinging around on the trampoline.
Tallulah has decided to become a beauty Vlogger. She spends endless hours rearranging what little make up she owns, watching other beauty Vloggers and filming herself being a beauty Vlogger in training. She has very definite views about cosmetics and is currently lobbying for someone to buy her an Urban Decay palette in ‘nude’, because you know, it is a very reasonable £36.
Yesterday she gave herself a nosebleed removing her make up. This is true urban decay.
Nobody said it was going to be easy.
Tilly bought a loaf of bread for £1.50 today from her favourite bakery. It has raised such levels of excitement in the house it is now being referred to as the £1.50 loaf, even though it has now been eaten. We are indeed that rock ‘n’ roll. You may infer from that that my decision not to eat as much bread this week is not going well, and it’s only Monday.
My dad and brother went to see Derren Brown in concert this evening. Neither of them were made to do the chicken dance, or eat raw onions. I, for one am very disappointed by this. Mr. Brown had the opportunity in his grasp, and he just let it go.