The children and I were chatting idly about life and stuff the other day, when Child Two piped up. ‘I want to find a nice boyfriend at university,’ she confided. Fair enough, I thought, and not at all difficult to achieve. University was, I dimly remember, a place uniquely well-stocked with potential boyfriends in my …
Well, thank goodness for the Streatham Guardian. This public-spirited paper has taken it upon itself to ensure that the good folk of Herne Hill can sleep easy in their beds at night, with no risk of waking up with ginormous teeth-marks in their ankles, or indeed in any footballs, bikes or scooters left in their …
The other morning, when I woke up Child One to get her to school (now no easy process, as she bought her one-way ticket to adolescentville some time ago, and sleeps like a gorgeous hibernating bear) I threw back the curtains with my usual gusto. And stopped. And stared. On the lawn was a ghastly, …
Just in the nick of time, gorgeous Tarte Tartan has stepped forward and saved me from despair with her too, too sweet I Love Your Blog award. Je t’embrasse, TT, if that’s not too forward, and I’m only sorry I can’t award it straight back to you as it is so richly deserved. Instead, I …
My darlings, I’m so sorry I have neglected you. Needless to say, various shenanigans have occupied my every waking moment, to an extent which makes any other threads of rational thought a near impossibility. Normal service will be resumed soon. I hope. Dulwich Divorcee