Enough bellyaching. I hate others going on about their maladies, so it’s about time shut up.
This blog has been woefully neglected of late. While there have been excuses, life has been trundling on around here as it always does We’ve visited family several timestoday as part of a mission to acquire a bicycle for our youngest’s upcoming birthday. One of the attached photos shows the toothsome little monster being predictably happy about becoming the first of our children to get a newbikeall the others have been second hand, or hand-me-downs from friends. I fought our jungle of a garden this entire past weekend in an attempt to uncover Angkor Wat. I didn’t find it, but the garden is now at least tidyalthough I have much less skin left on my hands after losing a fight with a blackberry bush. School has just finished for Easter, meaning W faces two weeks of the children climbing the walls. If the weather holds out, I spent a chunk of cash on outdoor games on Saturdaywe now have Swingball again (our third setit will be played to destruction, as have the past two sets), badminton rackets, and a new football. No doubt the first window that gets broken with the football will be my fault We’re slowly digging ourselves out of the financial black hole we have been fighting with for the last several years. W’s return to work has accelerated that enormously, and it’s making us both feel better about everything. The cats continue to grow, and become more crafty by the day. Despite being identical to look at, they have very distinct characters. One is a killer, one is a mystery, and the other is a lazy fat lump that pretends to like us, although it turns out he only likes us when he’s hungry. The chickens are slowly growing upwe’ll be expecting eggs any day now. It’s about time they started doing something productive rather than eating us out of house and home. My patience with them was sorely tested this morning when Little Miss Seven let them out of the run ten minutes before the start of the Grand Prix. I had a few choice words as I ran into the garden in my wellies. It’s 10pm on Sunday evening at the time of writingI suspect any sane person would now go collapse on the sofa and watch rubbish television for the remainder of the evening. I’ll be heading out to the social networks and my favourite blogs to catch up on the happenings of my friendsboth near and far. I’m not quite sure if that means I’m sane or not. See the full gallery on Posterous