Rainy Day Rhodeo

Ah the summer holidays. Long, lazy, sunny days in the garden sipping a Mai Tai and watching one's gorgeous offspring frollic gayley (no scratch that - people will think I'm setting Finley up what with the last post on his excursions into make-up and I think it's really too early to be deciding on his sexuality); watching Finley busily getting up to all sorts of japes with his little friends.

Instead, as it's drizzling, Fin and his friend have dragged his mattress down the stairs and are now sliding down it semi clothed and whooping like some red necks at a rhodeo (sorry all red necks out there, my PC filter is not catching this stuff early enough today). Fin's friend is what you might call a picky eater - a complete darling, but challenging to feed. After running through all the food I had in the house, we settled on plain pasta and carrot sticks. Fin wanted something sweet after lunch so I directed them to the cupboard to see what they could find. 'Hey' I heard Fin exclaim with delight, 'we can have fig and nut sweets!', (you open up a dried fig and push almonds or pecans into the cavity and then squash it all back together, like a spanish fig cake - surprisingly yummy). 'What's a fig?' asked his friend, and even Finley was rendered speechless.

The Beach and Barnicot gig was fine in the end. People came out on a wednesday night to support us which was just lovely. I was definately feeling nauseas in the second half and started to forget the lines of songs - although aparently nobody noticed, meaning that I am either a superb actress and consumately professional, or they weren't really listening to the words anyway. Afterwards everybody else went off to Emma's for tea (I think that's a euphamism for whisky) and I sloped of home to bed - bizzarrely craving ice-cream again, which we happened to have in the freezer and did make me feel much better!

We are moving next week, providing we can come up with six months rent in advance as we are both self employed and the credit referencing company spat our checks right back out with 'HIPPIES' stamped all over it. We can make the rent no problem, so it feels like a real beurocratic piece of crap, but we are over a barrel here and there's nothing we can do about it. Plus the new place is still full of the landlord's chinz and wicker furniture. Boy I could rant about this for ages, but I might let it percolate until I have something a little more refined than a tirade of abuse to offer......