|The 'Balrog' AKA my gay dog. love him! see what i mean about the eyes?|
I have just got back inside, after spending a good five minutes pulling out the ‘eye bogeys’ (sleep/crust… let’s face it, it all sounds rank, however you put it) out of my hairy gay dog’s eyes. This is a necessity, obviously as I do not do it for sport or self amusement, only that my dog has such long hair (he’s a bearded collie FYI) that all kinds get wedged in him/cling to him/stuck on him…little insects going about their business, heaving around their treasures, only to have my dog gaily sweep by them and collect them up in his fur. Poor unsuspecting bugs. I have since washed my hands, I may add, as I saw some worried faces and brains ticking over going ‘eeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwww, she pulls eye bogeys out her dogs eye hair, and then types away spreading doggy-eye-bogey-diseases all over her keyboard, rough’. He is a complete fool of an animal (although an adorable one) and runs around endlessly afterwards as if he is saying ‘look at MEEEEEE!! I can SSEEEEEEEE!!’, he is still doing it as we speak. Alright, you’re not speaking, it’s me, talking to myself, again.
This was probably one of the nicer things I have done today too…Today went from clearing up a bit (the weather, it’s been grey and drizzly for days) so a bit of cloud clearance, and rain stoppage sent us outside on a ‘wearing out hypo kids and gay dog’ mission. We bundle into the chicken hoof scratched car and as usual are gassed with the stale cat p**s smell still lingering in there from when my cat bumble got ran over and thus whisked down to the vets on Monty’s knee. He thereupon wees on my son’s leg out of sheer terror. The smell has never gone. Unfortunate, for reasons too obvious to spell out. Anyway, we are OUT and on our lil’ way. The woods down the road from us are our port of call. We leap out (we’re a very ‘gleeful’ family, always leaping and bundling and venturing out…What’s the expression? Better out than in? Well that’s us. I reckon we are definitely better out than in. As anyone, I am sure, would vouch for). The walk we are completely unprepared for, we are in some cases sporting ‘pumps’ one is wellied up, but that does not prevent the shoe brigade from joining in the jumping in muddy puddles and getting mud EVERYWHERE. Monty slips over, face and everything covered in stinky slimy mud. It is true that boys are made from slugs and snails and puppy dog’s tails, hang on a minute, I was expecting ‘mud’ to come up in that too, but it doesn’t. Why ever not? I shall email the dude/dudette that made up that rhyme and request they add this word, as I need it to make the comparison with my eldest daughter Lola’s reaction, who when she got mud all up her shin and inner thigh, we all had to wait for a good 10 minutes, whilst she dedicatedly spat on leaves and tried to clean herself.
|un, deux, troi...WEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!|
The cynicism in France was Alex and my hot topic of conversation as I have a bath tonight. Naked politics-you should try it! Sorry if I have just scared all my viewers with worse than rank mentally disturbing images. It seems that every time I tell someone in France something/anything, I am always met with a cynical expression, and then victim to advice from Madame Pearls of Wisdom. Oooo, you’re going to do that? Oh, I wouldn’t if I were you…if I were you I would certainly not do it that way…’ and other such wise encouragements. It’s as if I have just told them outside the school gates that I planned to sport giant suckers on my hands and thereby enabling myself to vacuum my body to the school wall, then proceed to suction my way by careful desuction, re-vacuuming technique, up the school wall, mounting triumphantly the school roof, and hoy myself off, hurling myself into the school playground with a ‘go gadget go’ helicopter hat made earlier by my 4 kids with the craft aids of sticky back plastic and toilet rolls. Not gonna work, so their advice would therefore be both relevant and understandable. But I am not, so their advice is rubbish, and born out of a need to throw obstacles in my already obstacled up chosen life path…
Right, it’s late, and I am trying to get over my rather bouffant newly cut hair, which I decided to take a leaf out of toddler’s book and join in self-hair cutting. I am now sporting a rather large fringe, which as it stares at me in the face right here, right now, feels like a big fat flapping bigly fringed mistake! You may be the judges-
|OK, so the no make up look does me no particular favours- and then there's THAT FRINGE!!|