ON THE ROAD AGAINNNN…

We’re moving house! Coz, you know, being umpty-thousand weeks pregnant and in constant pain, and having a short story collection to pitch and being in constant pain, and all the other stuff Luscious & I have been whining on about in our respective blogs over the last umpty-something weeks just wasn’t enough of a challenge.

Anyway, the tenant moved out, and it’s stupid for us to be renting when we have an empty house, so we’re moving back. Next weekend. No time like the near present and all that.

If you’re not one of the million people we’ve sent an email to with the new address details, and you need them, drop us a line.

WHICH MEANS…

We can get cable. Which means I can watch the Premier League again.

Happy little fat man dancing 🙂

LIKE DAUGHTER LIKE MOTHER

Cassie’s in the car the other day, explaining to me why the name of her jewellery-making company is going to be “Rickie”. It’s short for Richter, see, as in Richter Scale, as in “Rickie jewellery will shake your world.”

Which is pretty clever really. At least, I would have thought it was if I could have heard her over my laughing. Such a simple mistake, really, getting Richter and Rictus mixed up.

Rictus scale. And I think visually…

Then this morning, Luscious and I are talking about Christmas, and my only-one-Christmas-out-of-a-religion-that-doesn’t-celebrate-it sweetie is telling me an idea she’s had for something we can put in Cassie’s stocking.

Only she calls it a doggie bag…

Laugh? I nearly wet myself.

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