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.


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…..


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).

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….



….don’t wake Mammy.

She’s too busy dreaming up the next post…

Tick tock.

The Cannonball Run.

The object of playing Cannonball is to leg it as fast as you can towards the sofa whilst screaming, “Cannonball”.

The more explosive the landing, the better.

Who taught my children this game?

Good NIght…

…sleep tight, don’t let the dinosaurs bite.



Getting along.

Getting out of the way of a twenty mile an hour canine whirlwind is proving ok for Arnie.

Getting them to like each other may take a bit longer.

I Can’t Stand the Rain…

…well actually our dog can’t.

Not sure how I’m going to break the news to her that there’s something significant about Swansea’s weather to make her think she may need to up sticks or get an umbrella…



Like ’em or not even the average (ok, not so average) eight year old knows what a celebrity is.

Maybe in twenty years time, you’ll only be allowed to run for parliament if you’ve done a stint on Big Brother…

Not sure whether that would be a bad thing mind…

Spider Alley.

Spider Alley, the place only the bravest children dare enter.

Brave the sticky webs and wrapped bundles of mummified bugs, spun and wrapped, ready to stick in your hair.

Run, run, run!

Wet Dog.

May I draw your attention to the woefully inadequate towel I thought might do the job of drying her….


And it wasn’t me…

Dressing Up.

Ah they never tire of it and it never ceases to amuse me either. Today’s costume was very inventive!

Ruling the roost.

It’s now Gizmo, get in…..


Oi, leave the cat food alone, it whiffs and its no good for you…



For goodness sake it’s too bloody early, go away and give us a few more weeks of summer please!

In the Dog House

Well it’s in the dog bed actually that Gruff now prefers to munch on his biscuits at snack time.

The Shoe Box.

I’m sure Za za Gabor never has this issue with finding matching pairs of shoes…

Getting all the school ones ready. Is it really September already?

I’ve  enjoyed this summer, quite different to last year. Oh well, here’s to another term of walking to school, head-lice and homework.

Last Day before School starts.


’tis the season for….


Who lives in a house like this?

You do Myles!


Sometimes the world seems better under water. Haven’t found time for a bath in ages. Lush.

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