A recent conversation with my two year old daughter. D: my pants are called Nicola. Me: sorry? D: (who hates it when I don’t understand exactly what she is talking about.) My pants are called NICOLA! Me: No darling, Ben’s mum is called Nicola. D: (now infuriated at my slovenly grasp of the English language) … [Read more...]
What the femfresh are they talking about?
22/06/2012 By 15 Comments
At the age of nearly two and half my daughter is well acquainted with the F word. No, not that one, she hasn’t learnt to swear yet. But she has no qualms about saying fanny. Mummy, my fanny bit hurting. Mummy, I got fanny like you, Mummy, look – my fanny!’ When my son was born, the question of what was between his … [Read more...]
FEAR
04/05/2012 By 7 Comments
Sometimes it consumes me. The fear that something dreadful is lurking in my DNA. That somewhere in that unseen double helix lies a chink in my genetic makeup. Bad biology. The doctor is round and avuncular. He examines the network of moles on my back, like a game of join-the-dots. ‘I’m going to refer you to the … [Read more...]
Beauty and the allotment
08/04/2012 By 5 Comments
The sun made a rare appearance at the allotment this weekend. Sadly, the same could not be said of Unhusband. But at least D fell asleep in the pushchair (another rare event these days) which gave me a chance to erode a few more vertebrae, get on with some digging. And get chatted up by some half naked men. Call me … [Read more...]
