My beloved children have introduced me to several new things: goldfish, screaming tantrums over the wrong sort of swimming towel, the concept of being good later at home, not out at the swimming pool, mice and headlice. Another attack, how wonderful. We are combing through with masses of conditioner at least once a day; Lucy is still infested, Hattie appears not to be. Which is understandable: Lucy washes her hair at least three times a week, Hattie likes to keep lollipops and bits of sweet in hers.
I've mentioned the mice before; they are getting bolder and bolder, coming out in the middle of the day while I'm listening to Radio 4 and reading the Guardian (middle class) and I'm sure I see them all the time, although I suspect I'm mistaken. I hope so. I don't want to kill them, as I don't think that that will do any good; clean, clean, clean and fill any holes in the floor with bits of plastic.
The fish were Lucy's 4th birthday present, and she is intermittently very fond of them and neglects them horribly. We have had several deaths, and a couple of trips up to Syon Park to replace them, but recently we have discovered a baby fish living amongst the weeds and stones and murk at the bottom of the tank. Hurrah, and we hope it will survive, as baby fish don't always. I've shown the girls, which might have been a mistake.
We also had a squirrel on the bird table a few weeks ago. We had a friend to play, who rejected all food except strawberry jam sandwiches, and these were partially chewed and then discarded, so I threw them onto the table, expecting the massive magpies and pigeons to descend, but once the girls had gone away, we were visited by a large grey squirrel, who seemed very keen on the jam. I took a few blurry pictures and instagrammed the hell out of them; now it just looks like a grey blob surrounded by magnolia leaves.
Hattie would like a "hampner" for Christmas; I suspect she will be disappointed, but maybe next year.
I've mentioned the mice before; they are getting bolder and bolder, coming out in the middle of the day while I'm listening to Radio 4 and reading the Guardian (middle class) and I'm sure I see them all the time, although I suspect I'm mistaken. I hope so. I don't want to kill them, as I don't think that that will do any good; clean, clean, clean and fill any holes in the floor with bits of plastic.
The fish were Lucy's 4th birthday present, and she is intermittently very fond of them and neglects them horribly. We have had several deaths, and a couple of trips up to Syon Park to replace them, but recently we have discovered a baby fish living amongst the weeds and stones and murk at the bottom of the tank. Hurrah, and we hope it will survive, as baby fish don't always. I've shown the girls, which might have been a mistake.
We also had a squirrel on the bird table a few weeks ago. We had a friend to play, who rejected all food except strawberry jam sandwiches, and these were partially chewed and then discarded, so I threw them onto the table, expecting the massive magpies and pigeons to descend, but once the girls had gone away, we were visited by a large grey squirrel, who seemed very keen on the jam. I took a few blurry pictures and instagrammed the hell out of them; now it just looks like a grey blob surrounded by magnolia leaves.
Hattie would like a "hampner" for Christmas; I suspect she will be disappointed, but maybe next year.
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