Now, I love my parents. Of course I do. They’re not just my parents, they’re lovely people. But when they come to stay for a week it’s a bit like a whirlwind has hit the flat… Dad whipping through the place, doing ‘jobs’ and tormenting the cat (who usually takes the opportunity to vomit every other day) and Mum pottering, which is just doing jobs on a more low-key scale. None of these jobs actually need doing. The garden is a state because it’s been months without a dry weekend. Same for the windows. I have no real desire to get a new kitchen just yet, pleeease stop coming up with suggestions for new storage options when I do… stop tormenting the cat, he’ll be sick… hang on, I’ll show you where I keep the bath cleaner as soon as I’ve set up the sofabed for myself… yes, let’s go out to the Tutankhamun exhibition / Greenwich / shopping.

I could do with another week off.

Other posts to follow. Posts I’ve been mentally writing for a week. In a bit. Just let me rest a while…


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