in which I talk freely about the state of my bum and other arsefoolery
***We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this very important rant about the toilet seat*** Yes, T is for toilet humour. Or rather toilet humour failure. There is this post doing the rounds of facebook at the moment entitled The Man Rules. It is written by a man/men and is, I imagine, some … [Read more…]
Q is for Quando. When? As in when will this alphablogging end? This is a bit of a cheat because en Español it is cuando. But I rather suspect that any of you out there still reading, willing me, wanting me, to just f*cking finish already, are not going to pick nits over something so … [Read more…]
N is for Nunca. Nunca digas nunca jamás. Never say never ever (lit.) or Never Say Never Again, Mr Bond. I am the kind of girl who does not like to say never, ever. If you would ask me if I would ever go back to England to live my answer would probably be nunca … [Read more…]
Were you wondering how long I could go without mentioning my broken arm? Wonder no more. What follows is the next riveting episode in El Drama del Brazo. I may have mentioned before that I am neither blessed nor cursed in the body hair department. All other body issues aside, I am not, for example, … [Read more…]
It seems to me that there comes a time in the life cycle of a mummy blog when one must write the fart post. Why is that? A need to over-share maybe. Having laid yourself almost entirely bare – on subjects ranging from childbirth to constipation – where left is there to go? Actually, I … [Read more…]
