Not entirely sure what day it is but with two out of three kids now back at (home) school, we’re back to some sort of routine.
Find Wine!
Half term next week. How did that happen? HOW? Summer finished, like, five minutes ago. I’ve only just got my properly chunky jumpers out (not a euphemism).
This week, I hit 45. I know age is just a number blah blah blah but honestly, when I woke up on the morning of my 45th birthday it was the first time I’ve not been that excited about it being my birthday.
Oh, how I love this time of year. I’m back in jumpers. I’ve picked blackberries. I’m drinking red wine in front of the fire.
What a week it’s been: long, cold and the guy who was in Home Alone 2 briefly is to be President (I’m watching as I type).
I do love a nativity play. I was once Angel Gabriel to my husband’s Joseph. We were five years old at the time and I remember thinking that, even if I wasn’t Mary, at least I had a speaking part.
You can’t buy happiness but you can buy wine and that’s kind of the same thing, or so the saying goes.
So, if you know that Gris is the name of a grape, that joke is funny-ish. Actually, the grape is better known as Pinot Grigio, but I digress.
Two booze-free days a week, that’s what we’ve been told by a group of MPs. I think that’s a sensible idea, not least because it gives us time to plan –
The Knackered Mother (knackeredus maternius) is most commonly seen in her natural habitat, the kitchen. Here, she slaves away putting food on the table for her children to flick all over the floor, occasionally falling silent to actually eat some of it. She exists on a diet of sandwich crusts, leftover fish fingers and mint kitkats with the odd half-cup of lukewarm tea if she’s lucky.
