A few days ago, a friend and I talked about how much we were loving the holidays: everyone at home, no school runs, even relative lie-ins thanks to later-than-usual bedtimes for the children. The holidays are too short!
Find Wine!
That is the question, as it turns out. My husband is sporting a beard (grown pre-Becks, he likes to remind me) and I just can’t decide if I like it or not.
I measure all pain on the BC scale: before childbirth. Even using an epilator is a walk in the park nowadays. But there is a mother who has raised the bar when it comes to showing the love. This particular one has her babies, then lets them eat her.
So, we went to a gig the other night to see the very excellent Editors. Loved the music but the dancing and whooping felt ever-so-slightly self-conscious.
There was a time when the Sunday Papers were read cover to cover all before our first glass of wine at lunchtime on a Sunday.
