However, if I'd written;
It's the Holidays
You may have thought it was a pure statement - or even perhaps that poor Mrs T has wrapped a large coil of rope around the branch of a nearby tree and is straining her neck towards the sky.
You would be correct on the last assumption.
Oh the sweet joy of the school holidays.
God, I love irony.
So over the next six weeks I will be doing my best to persuade my boys that;
a) Haircuts really are a good idea.
b) They really do need a new pair of school shoes.
c) If just once during the day over the entire six weeks they could not urinate over the toilet seat I will die a happy woman.
So other than that exciting news (other than I haven't been strangled by Japanese Knotweed) is I am still alive. I am still writing - working on my new novel which is going from madcap to blatant lunacy and also tampering with my Winnie the Pooh story which (and you may have guessed this) has gone from madcap to blatant lunacy. Ah well. One can but pray for moments of literary genius.
On a completely different note, I read in the Daily Mail this morning that women on the pull ( that's a tawdry UK expression which means "looking for a man to bed" and usually applies to young women who overdose on high energy drinks and live north of Manchester) choose ugly friends so they look more attractive to men. Now as I live Down South I can't comment (too much) about all of my fair sisters but I would just like say I don't believe that at all. I have personally never selected a friend on the basis of their looks just to make me look better. There are only two kinds of women who do this a) who live North of the Border and have overdosed on high energy drinks and b) Samantha Brick.
You know, they say those Olympic Villages are a hot bed of sex and hormones. I wonder who the female beach volleyball players take out on the pull with them? My guess is it's the East European shot putters. Not because they are ugly or look like they've had a testosterone jab but if the volleyball ladies have the misfortune to overdose on high energy drinks they'll always be someone to carry them home.
Those shot-putt ladies have seriously big muscles. I'd like to have big muscles too - in fact I'd like to have any muscles but that's another story - Let's just say I'm fighting the battle of the bulge at the moment. And losing. However, I did write to Sebastian Coe and asked him if he could introduce a new Olympic event - The Wobblethon. He turned me down. What a rotter. I reckon I was a dead cert for a Gold. I was also a bit disappointed not to have gone on a date with a Russian shot-putter. It would be a toss up which one of would have pulled Usain Bolt but I reckon I may have edged ahead by a slim margin.
The Olympics and the school holidays? Life is perfect!