So, when I wrote my previous post I had no idea that I’d be making another related entry, so far down the line. More than two years later, the family is happily settled in Canada and My Hero has completed the Master’s in Education at Queen’s University, Kingston, that she had been accepted for what …
On Friday 6th February, Lorraine was (unofficially) notified that she had been accepted onto a Masters course in education, at one of the leading universities in Canada.
Well done my beautiful.
You’re My Hero.
At two years of age, Abigail was used to replace the siren on the village fire engine whenever it broke down. As a twelve year-old, we hire her out to the American military to make sample recordings – for use as chemical warfare warning sirens in Iraq.
“B0!!0cks!” Thinks our hero.
Like a sort of stunted, cross-channel swimmer, who has forgotten to take her clothes off, the two-foot tall, white monster, is covering itself in white grease.
It is surprising how far a 250g tub of Sudocrem will go when spread about 2cm thick (that’s an inch – for my mum & dad), over everything within reach of a two-foot tall, albino demon.
Any successful recipes for getting white grease out of beige carpet will be gratefully received.
Sunday morning, and our beautiful, fair-haired, little, three-year-old angel wakes up at 06:00.
Half way down the stairs, it was the smell that first suggested something was wrong. A sort of sickly, cloying smell, chemical, a bit like… yes, oh sh!t, like a lot of nail polish…
It’s surprising just how far one, small bottle of bright, red, nail-polish go’s – it spreads evenly over polished, hardwood furniture, Laura Ashley seat fabric, sofas, beige carpet and expensive rugs.
Our hero considers the seven-foot tall bookcase and the two-foot tall monster with red teeth and claws.
It appears she was bitten by a radioactive spider back in Colchester General.
Anybody that’s seen Colchester General Hospital, will have no problem believing that there are radioactive spiders wandering around the wards.
Toilet-training a toddler, as our hero has discovered, frequently entails one or two patches of damp carpet. The toddler however, gets to the point when they know they’ve had an accident and they want to clear it up. All they need are the appropriate tools.
It’s surprising just how far the water in the average toilet will spread, when a toddler gets hold of a sponge and, soaking up the water in the toilet, trails it through the house to the “scene of the accident” and begins to mop and scrub.
Fwwwiipp!!!! The bat swoops clumsily over his head and flaps its’ way to the far side of the room.
Deal with the flapping nuisance in the morning.
Lorraine leaps from the bed and dives for the door, with a speed and agility usually seen only in top athletes and performing dolphins.
Our hero has a plan and is armed. He does however, cut a strange figure, standing stark naked in the middle of the room, beach-bag hanging gaping from one hand and beer tray at the ready in the other.
“Poor little b@gger.” Our hero thinks. “He probably told the wife he was only nipping out for a quick moth with the lads.”
There ensues the sound of a zip and the sort of slapping of elastic that is not usually heard from male underwear.
“Bollocks!” Thinks our hero.