If we ask LB to get the phone, he usually shouts at it “Whatdoyouwant???” until it stops ringing. Tonight was progress. With a big fat P.
“LB! Get the phone!”
“Who me Mum?”
“Do I have to Mum?”
“Yes, quick before it stops ringing.”
“BLOODY PHONE. I hate it.”
“Just do it.”
“HELLO! HELLO! WHAT.DO.YOU.WANT??”
“Who is it?”
“Who was it LB?”
“Recorded message Mum.”
Faithful blog followers may have recognised a bit of a rubbish bin theme developing here. There was the hanging out in the swing bin era and the time LB chucked the egg of trust in the bin. Tonight, it’s another bin tale.
A few years ago we had a family get-together at our gaff and my two young nephews turned up with an electronic bug each they’d just got from a local shop (well a pretty cool local shop really, so I shall give em a plug here)*.
I’ve been a right old weepy wreck since the A-level results and confirmation that Rosie’s off to university this weekend. I dunno. What a schmaltz-hound. Richy and the other kids have been very patient and supportive as I’ve blubbed walking around the supermarket, passing old favourites like bourbon biscuits, hot chocolate and tuna, seeing a box set of Desperate Housewives in HMV, walking past her old primary school at chucking out time.