Out of Africa

On Monday Mum and Dad came back from their first ever holiday in Africa. They went to Kenya - some beach, some safari, loads of sun. Kenya has suffered terribly since last year's riots beat the tourism industry to within an inch of its life ... there were just 40 guests in a hotel that sleeps 500.

Today Mum and Dad came over to see all 7 grandchildren who were squashed in, like wriggling worms, to our little house. They came clutching brilliant memories, a glossy Kenya book and some beaded bracelets for the kids. There was also a soft, fragile, ornamental Masai necklace made from tiny black, bronze and cream beads. My 15-year old neice politely declined the necklace, it was passed around from my sister-in-law to my daughter, and somehow ended up around my neck.

Lucky me :-)

Halloween Snow

Apparently it hasn't snowed in London in October for 70 years. Last night, snow fell and quickly turned to crunchy ice. This morning we scraped the car, poured hot water on the windscreen, and the children and I set off for my sister's house.

I don't know if it was because of the ice, but 2 trucks collided on the M40 this morning. One driver died and one truck shed its load of lard. The police closed the motorway, and all the surrounding roads were gridlocked. It took me almost 4 hours to drive the journey that usually takes 40 minutes.

As I was slowly making my way home alone, my sister phoned to tell me that all 5 of the cousins had been playing out in the snow, they'd had lunch, and our sons (aged 6 and 7) were having a lovely time, naked. "Naked snow ball fighting?" I asked. "No, just naked", she replied. "That's alright then", I thought.

The Toad, the Quandry and the Anti-Role Model

Ooooh. Yeuch. Some slimy moron left a grubby comment on one of my posts, so I deleted it and switched 'Comment Moderation' back on. I'm all for freedom of speech, but this is my blog and if someone wants to advertise sex aids on it, they should have the decency to ask first. The toad.

And I have been the laziest blogger ever recently. In fact, I can't decide whether to carry on or not. I haven't even bothered logging in and leaving comments with all my favourite writers out there in blogland. So I've decided to blog every single day from now until my birthday, and then make up my mind whether to blog-on or blog-no-more.

Meanwhile, with a week to go until the US presidential elections, I am keeping everything crossed for Obama. How could anyone not want him to win? One of the many things that irks me about McCain was his statement that "Sarah Palin is a role model for women". How the hell does he know who my role models are? I'll pick my own, thank you. I mean, would anyone ever say they picked so-and-so for their running mate because "he is a role model for men"? Of course not. Patronising twat.

The Swims We Do For Love

I was shivering with cold, wet and exposed, brushing up against hoards of nearly-naked strangers with spotty backs and miserable faces. The urge to escape smothered me as children's screams bounced off the walls and made my ears hurt. Boredom pinched me with its cold mean fingers as I forced myself to smile, aching to be home reading the paper and drinking hot tea.

Thirty l-o-n-g minutes earlier we had approached the front desk: "Four for swimming please", smiled Big G. The children scrambled into their swimsuits in a froth of excitement: "Watch me!" they whooped a hundred times, swimming from Mum to Dad and back again, daring to go, gasp, "right under!" Goggles and wet hair got crazy and tangled. What fun. The wave machine came on (with the Hawaii Five 0 theme tune at top volume), so the children leapt about like seal pups, diving down, bursting up for air, laughing with skinny legs and arms sticking out all over the place.

S-i-g-h.