Monthly Archives: September 2011

Dear Catastrophe Wife.

Dear Catastrophe Wife,

I am writing to commend you on your outstanding behaviour today with regards to the mishap regarding our dog.

Yes our beach outing lasting approximately ten minutes before your stone lob fractured our dog’s front tooth but it was the hysterical crying all the way home whilst erratically driving the car that will stand out for me in particular.

I understand that the two hundred pounds it will cost and the legthy operation to our dog has upset you but if I may be so bold, please stay away from any future stone throwing so as to avoid any future damage and hysteria to your fragile, emotional state.

I will plan any future days out with care and advice from the health and safety executive.

I would also advise you to fill in a risk assessment for any future outings so as to protect the public and yourself.

Signed, your husband.

The Creeping Realisation….

…that your packet of welsh cakes will not be accompanying you with a nice cup of tea but will be residing in the belly of your dog.

It’s a Dog’s Life.

Being the footstool of a three year old is very, very tiring.

Mittens.

That was the name of the little kitten that pawed at our door today.

I ignored it.

An hour later she was still outside trying to get herself killed on the road so I let her in.

Evie called her Mittens and the two of them cuddled up on the sofa.

At half past three I paraded up and down the street with her in a carrier with posters to no avail.

I took her to the vets after tea and left her there to be collected by the RSPCA. (No microchip).

I’m sorry Evie.

Made in Swansea.

My kids were, but look at the rubbish on Television.

Made in Chelsea, and The only Way is Essex. Docu-Dramas about real people.

Shoot me now…..

Peas.

Oh god not peas, anything but peas.

Don’t give Gruff peas.

He has an odd fascination with squeezing every single one of them and launching them into the cosmos for good measure…

Behind the cushions.

It’s always the best place to be when watching Doctor Who.  Not normally letting the younger ones watch but carrot cake held my interest for far too long….

 

Penny Sweets.

Apparently in this country 50 per cent of the population in this country earn more than £35,000 a year.

Between that 50 per cent, they make up 93 per cent of the income of the United Kingdom.

(Source. UK  Revenue and Customs). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Income_in_the_United_Kingdom

Or put it another way, the other 50 per cent earn just 7 per cent of the country’s income.

Penny sweets anyone?

Dazed, Confused and Caked in Mud.

Who is that lady?

What lady?

Oh that one, the one lying half way down the embankment.

The one lying in the mud?

Yeah. That one.

The one making a mental note to herself not to slip and slide bottom first down a muddly embankment after her dogs ball.

You should have seen the trail she left walking home….

 

Shhhhh….

….don’t wake Mammy.

She’s too busy dreaming up the next post…

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