The day of the frogs

Today was the day I knew that the grass had to be slain. My lawn was at least knee high, whereas the bit that Huw does is Wimbledon with stripes. Mine was so high that it had fallen over and turned into a blanket that snuggles up frogs.
They knew that I hated them, but they waited until I started mowing before leaping out at me, despite me running around over the grass trying to tell them what was about to happen.
I've always been a bit embarrassed about being frog phobic as it is a bit pathetic. I'm quite up for them in theory, and no longer drain bogs to get rid of their habitats, but in practice their sitting and pretending to be a leaf then leaping out at me frightens me to a point of sprinting away screaming. So, I've tried to keep quiet, knowing that a stifled scream is better for the soul than having a brother rub one in my face.
Since having the girls, I am aware of the importance of not passing on one's fears - and also I feel that Charlotte will be the type to tell me to shut my eyes and open my mouth (she got that one from her father) as soon as she is fast enough to catch one.
However, today I started mowing as Huw and Charlotte were rally driving around our yard (10x10 yards) and the slimy little sods were leaping about everywhere. At each appearance I would have to abandon the lawn mower and run shouting "Jee-sus-Christ" around the garden, no doubt stepping on a few of his mates as I went. I saw four altogether before I gave up and phoned Stuart Coyle to come and tarmac the damn place.

This evening has been Little Women as I have made 14 jars of marmalade from of out of date Marmade for the local fete on Monday. Huw has spent three hours making a lasagne, then disappeared, exhausted, before the washing up managed to get done. I will have to get the girls to make the lables tomorrow and then brace myself for a bout of village sh*ts.

Karma is a funny thing. After having tried so hard not to cut frogs into strips, but being secretly pleased to see the occasional foot scattered around the place, I was driving back from the shop on a late night quest for more sugar for the marmalade, and nearly rolled the car trying to miss a toad. Basta*rds.

Lorraine.

OK, so which git left the Slimming World leaflet on my doorstep?

Another day, another belly-full of blackberries soaked in dog urine.

Yes, some git left a Slimming World leaflet on my doorstep -although thinking about it, it is actually Fat Huw's doorstep too. They were obviously a little sheepish as they stuffed it in my Rigger Boot and sprinted (waddled) off without telling anyone. How rude is that? So, next time you see me, I'll be ringing a little bell as I'll have lost a couple of pounds or something (just like I did last time I had my bikini line waxed).

I held playgroup at our house yesterday, whilst the hall rennovations were on, so we had lots of little ones racing around in the wheelbarrow and slipping over in the mud. Just when I was thinking "Ah, I can do this! It works sometimes" I found a dead bird in a bucket of water. They all spotted it before it was disposed of, so I had seven fascinated children following me whilst I went and tipped it in the hedge. I gave them all a lesson about not playing near water as that is what happens and they nodded sagely and I thought I had got away with it. Then I tipped another bucket with a dead slug in it out, and then realised that the blob of mud I had poured it onto, was in fact another dead bird - but this poor thing now had a slug stuck to it as well. I expect our garden will now be the talk of lots of tea tables...

We went for a walk at about fiveish today as Charlotte was getting a little wild and needed wearing out, so we walked round the loop (again) and just when I was beginning to relax and Maude had spotted some good raspberries in the hedge, there was a giggle and I turned to see Charlotte sprinting along with her trousers and pants round her ankles and arms in the air, typically just as someone I sort of know was coming down her drive for a chat. Does anyone else really have to go through this, or is it just me?

The editing of Number Two (woof) book is coming along and I am realising what I have learnt from the professionals' opinions of Number One, as the beginning of the book is rubbish and I have now reached the bit that was written after Number One had had a professional's eye over it, and thankfully it is much better.

We are a bit skint, so I am offering to slip a person in as a character for the price of a tank of oil. Offers need to be received before Mid Sept. Perfect Christmas present for your loved one.

Lorraine.

Another day, another rejection letter.

And, Another day, another five minutes wasted trying to work out how to create a new blog.

A fine weekend of fun and frolics. I think we went to Co-op AND Aldi, so excited were we about shopping in general. We were then able to put our virtual cupboard storage plan into action - because we have such a small kitchen and so few cupboards, we decided that we would not unpack the groceries from the boot of the car, but instead would just drive round with them in there and just pop out to fetch a can of beans when we needed one. Realised yesterday that the plan was a little flawed when I pierced a bottle of vegetable oil after slinging the pushchair on top of everything and also found that we'd lost a couple packs of bacon due to the heat.

Today, the girls' nursery is shut due to the fact that they are demolishing the school next to it, and so I have Claire the wonderful lady from the nursery come to the house to look after the girls while I do some work (well, surely typing this and reading about Jade Goodie is work?). So I was up until 3 a.m. shovelling debris out of the kitchen so that she wouldn't be sick if she looked under the table. I also had to write a list of things they can do to entertain themselves and am now wondering if I were taking the P*ss a bit by saying that Charlotte loves to clean the cooker, so if she could help her to do that, that would be great, gloves under the sink.


My rejection letter was from an online magazine that somehow didn't like my cheesy book plug that was thinly disguised as an article. Spooky eh?

Huw has gone to Bristol again today, so I have "number one" desk in the office, rather than being sat at the kitchen table. I thought that I would try and sort out the clutter that is stuck to it by fruit pastilles, but instead have thought sod it, rested my computer on an old pasty and got stuck in to my blog...

Pigeon kicking and crisp packet menaces

Hello! And heartened by the comments about my blog being a necessity for getting through the day, here we are again. (Unlucky those who made a convincing argument for the "do something else" option).

Huw did his usual "if I have to be up, then everyone must be up (and ideally making me cups of tea)" thing at six a.m and the day went down hill from then really.

Our play group is full of muppets. We had a "sports day" theme, thanks to someone bringing in their Olympics kit, and started with egg and spoon races. We then had to move on to just spoon races as egg and spoon turned out to be too difficult - and even then, no-one actually won.


Another day, another trip on the bus - this time a five mile journey taking a fantastic 54 minutes, via the arse-end of Llanyre and every other village where no-one has ever got on a bus before. Luckily we had comedy-driver and he kept the old folks tittering with his shouting at people who had parked in bad places which prevented his bus getting by and meant that he had to speed off at 16 mph to make up time.


I always used to think that parents who let their children run through flocks of pigeons and birds, especially whilst some other poor soul was feeding them, were pretty irresponsible. Today, however, I got their point. I had thirty seconds mental rest when Charlotte and her friend sprinted across the park to kick pigeons - my friend and I shouting, "look - there's another one!" trying to drag it out to at least a minute.


I'm sat here now, too scared to go out and get the washing in as I heard a rustle in the hedge earlier. In my mind it is at least a monster that wants to eat me and then hide in our cupboards to scare me again later - but in my heart I know that it is a crisp packet tucked into waist high grass. If we weren't such scutters, this kind of thing would never need to happen.

Blogs, Shmogs

I've had a troubling few days trying to sort out the soul of my blog - should it be every day regardless of whether I have anything to say, should it be a weekly thing or a now and then thing? No doubt some would suggest that it shouldn't be anything and the best thing I could do with my time is - something else.

Obviously the point of it is to reach across the world and if I can't do that, then perhaps it can be something to keep me up to speed with my typing.

Should I wax on about going to Bristol yesterday and at some points being sad that I don't live in such a cosmopolitan hub that has cappucinos and B&Qs on every corner, or should I mention that very soon I was so hacked off about being stuck in traffic for most of the time that I was there, that I couldn't wait to get back to Cosy Corner and be offered a choice of a mug or a cup for my coffee. (There are, of course upsides to everything - I took two wing mirrors off, so if you are in need of one, let me know. I also said "hello" to people as I walked past them on a quiet bit of pavement, until I realised that I was behaving a little like Crocodile Dundee and felt an arse.)

Anyway, the point is almost academic as I think even my mum has now moved on to Chris Evans' blog...

The highlight of the day was a phone call from Huw as he was taking friends to the airport for their flight. He had arrived at their house in plenty of time, only to find them running around screaming sh**t!! as one of them had misunderstood the 24 hour clock on the tickets and they had just realised that they had two hours less to get to the airport than they had thought...
I think that the situation was made worse as they went in our car and therefore the sausage roll crumbs and the furry husks that were once apple cores on the floor probably made them feel sick. But, I suppose it could have been worse - it could have been in Huw's car which has had the sun beating down on those KFC boxes for a few weeks now...