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Thursday, 28 May 2009

I drove to Wales yesterday to make a bacon buttie. By the time we had filled the car with fuel, purchased food, paid for a multiple pack of butane, an emergency shop for sunglasses (I cannot drive without them) and paid the Severn Bridge toll, it would have beed cheaper to buy a free range pig and have it sliced at the bread counter.

Yet this was not the point. It was raining and my house was a mess. Faced with a day trying to overlook the chaos, I chose the cowards way out - the bacon buttie in Wales. So we set off; raincoats, backpacks, sturdy foot wear and the Bitch in the boot and drove until we found a suitable patch of forest. We walked for 45 minutes, sat down, lit the camping stove and the teenager made a hearty round of bacon and egg baguettes. Suitably replenished, we packed up and drove home.

It was a very long way to have a bacon anything but if you are going to have a bacon anything, it may as well be in beautiful suroundings. It all went rather well; the dog attacked none of us, the children walked for a couple of hours and with the exception of a punch up between the older two - was without major incident.

Driving past the River Severn, small child spotted a rather large orange bouy.

"That is most strange" He declared, "Why on earth would there be a very large piece of fruit in floating in the river"?

I was going to explain that it was a bouy but this is a child that once asked me if there was such a thing as seeboys and not just seagulls. We had a little chat about James and the Giant Peach instead. Curled up in bed that night, he declared that he simply loved going out with his family and even his big brother had been nice to him (apparantly, he is not much fun at home).

See - value of a bacon sandwich, priceless.

I had a friend come and help clean today. Trying to keep up with 4 children, washing, shopping, cooking, the garden, breathing and blinking is not leaving enough hours in the day for cleaning. I used to be known as the house of taupe, now I don't need to buy the paint, it is simply the accrued colour on the walls.

I shared my disatisfaction with my breasts - she shared her breasts. In a bid to make me feel better and convince me that mine were perfectly fine, she revealed hers. Very sweet but if you have decided that your breasts are not what they should be, do not let a 27 year old show you hers.

It will not make you feel better.

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