Now, for the purposes of this post, I’m substituting Laughing boy’s surname (which happens to be an endangered species) for Llama. And, I’m pretending that llama’s are an endangered species. When I told some mates this story on the bus a few weeks ago, I laughed so much I could barely speak. They didn’t. Continue reading
Whoa??? What??? Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek? Did someone really just say that? Have I been teleported into a meeting of the inner circle of the Conservative party? What the fuck is going on?
Crazy, crazy days. This is an unexpectedly sneaky early view of the next instalment of this long, sorry tale because I’ve LOST MY PASSPORT AGAIN. And, I need the number for a passport form I’ve witnessed tonight. After relentlessly looking for the actual passport, I searched for possible electronic records of the number (on old e-tickets, etc). That turned up this email reminding me vividly of the Moroccan weekend away; Continue reading
(… and the Olympia Horse of the Year Show programme)
Every year on his birthday, Laughing boy chooses a treat. This could be a day out, a meal or whatever he wants really. It’s become a bit of a family joke that he only ever wants me to go on this treat. No amount of bribery, coaxing or cajoling shakes his conviction that it’s “Just you and me, Mum”.
Several years ago I travelled by coach to see Rosie sing with her school (and hundreds of other schools) at the Royal Festival Hall in London. We were dropped off a couple of hours before the concert started so I went for a walk round Covent Garden. Bizarrely, I bumped into someone who I’d gone on a random truck trip with across Africa ten years before (long story, inspired by watching Tracy Chapman, on the TV, singing at the Nelson Mandela birthday concert). Continue reading
I love travelling by train. It would be my preferred choice of travelling anywhere. The line from London down to Cornwall is especially nice, following the coast. Unfortunately last time I travelled on that route two gap yah boys recognised each other (through their type rather than personally) and bonded, loudly, across the table I was sitting at. They started with country top trumps; “Whoa Guatamala. Far out.” “Yah, right, but Peru, man”. “Yah, Peru, superb.”
Another photo-blog. This time, open day at the Dog’s Trust. Quite interesting, as with the Museum of Weddingkind, when you start to think about what is going on here. Anyway, it seemed the whole of the middle of England converged on the open day. Ferret racing, dog competitions, burgers, ice creams, tombola’s, dog food and a tour of the available dogs was on offer. I was struck by how many dogs were wearing cones. I wondered if it was a ploy to crank up the ‘ahh factor’. It was certainly working judging by the chorus of ‘ahhh’s’ at each new cage. Funny how Brits go crazy for a wounded animal but treat so many people like shite.
Oh boy. Another travel-tastic tale. For once, I am not responsible for this. It was those bastards at Air Canada. I was flying to Ottawa. So, so excited to be on an all expenses paid, invited trip. Anyway, since boarding, I’d had a tasty lunch; a lentil curry and rice jobby. I watched some tv, had a doze and a few hours later got woken up by the air steward putting a box on my tray. It was a funny box, like a happy meal box. No one around me had a box. “Wow”, I thought, “I must have won a prize. This is a truly great day”. (New readers should take a shufty at this earlier post. Seasoned readers will probably be wondering when I’m going to stop thinking this). Continue reading
mydaftlife 
