Moving house is supposed to be one of the most stressful things you can do, yes?
Which is where an annual pass to a safari park comes in. It’s moving house with PR for the under 10s.
It’s the gift that keeps going. (It’s not a gift. We paid for it.)
There are down-sides obviously (the rides could be stationed well away from the animals) but they are heavily outweighed by the magic of being in the hills, around animals, with small people in small Landrovers. That’s what this particular time and space in history needs. Small people in small Landrovers.
Merely minutes before the defendant had asserted in the strongest tones that she had not, nor ever had been, tired and that to argue otherwise was a malicious attack from persons intent on slandering her good-to-average name and that she’d take on the WHOLE LOT of you, that she was NOT HAPPY and RARARARARRARARRARRRRRRAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
The prosecution rests. But not like Exhibit A.
For the curious there is a reason why there have been no posts for two weeks. The reason is Moving House. Another reason is Setting Up As Self-Employed.
Which is also why I’m now 35% gin.
We loved the forest we were in but we wanted to call Scotland ‘home’ again.
So, the obvious thing to draw would be an innumerable pile of cardboard boxes but ENOUGH WITH THE CARDBOARD BOXES so no cardboard boxes.
Instead this was a day spent getting to know the local area (Gartmorn Dam) while Sven was away at a job interview.
Rowdy and The Bobcat managed to personify Eddie Izzard’s description of shower dial effects: one second lobsterpot-hot and – with a slight degree of shift – freezy-FREEZY cold EVASIVE MANOUVRES!
So we had delightful gambolling through the pathways, one moment watching slugs and geese and the next “My legs are SO TIIIIIRRED. They have STOPPED WORKING” and “What about THE MIDGIES?!?! They will eat us ALIVE! There will only be BONES. Bones and a FAT FAT MIDGIE!!”
The situation below developed after I had issued VERY CLEAR instructions not to go into the water as I hadn’t brought any towels with me and then I naively turned round to get their waterproof trousers out of the kitbag.
When you’re six your brain makes sense of things in a very different way and asks the questions we all want answers to.
Watching your every move.
They’re hungry for battle…..and yoghurt.
Riven with pitfalls this eco-parenting lark. RIVEN, I tell you.
He’ll pee outdoors.
He’ll pee and “forget” to wash his hands.
He’ll pee, “forget” to wash his hands and then happily watch an animation on GERMS and HAND-WASHING. And then watch it again. And then start picking his nose. And eating his snot. He’ll go back for seconds. Thirds. There’s a five course dinner going on actually on his face and it’s the only meal we make a saving on ketchup.
But rinsing his hands in the sea…?