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Haircut One

February 16, 2012

Oh my word, i have been lax.  Not blogged since Toby’s stay over a fortnight ago.  I blame it completely on the welsh homegrown (thanks Julius), which was deceptively strong.  That and the unexpected arrival of Brady from Aus, necessitating a quick mental night out up in Londinium, wiping out another weekend with recovery – am certainly not the wee spritely thing i think i am anymore.  Anyway, back on the page now, and will keep it this way.

So, half term up here, and suddenly Thursday.  Sadly Adam’s Cantebury gig is on a different schedule and so rather than the full week of holiday, we only have a few days, and then he’s back again on the long commute.  Hey ho, it’s only for this term, so we’re almost half-way through, and then it’s just wait and see for the job in Sept, or not.

And so we had valentine’s day, a day that traditionally i don’t really commemorate, however this year i went all out; de-forested my legs and bought a card with a badge on.  Adam out-did himself however, sourcing veal and cooking me my favourite veal milanese.  Oh, it was worth the wait.  Not too sure whether it was the fact that i hadn’t had veal for such a long time, or that it was genuinely fabulous meat, but it was spectacular.  Not the ‘freedom foods’ veal that i’ve still yet to find in Shrewsbury, but from Ludlow Food Centre – a ginormous barn filled with produce from the Earl of Plymouth’s local farms (seemingly half of south shropshire – no wonder Advolly says Shropshire’s insular, there can only be a few, sillily named, land owners if what he owns is anything to go by…).

The kids are well.  Our little boy is growing up too fast now…not only does he have a proper haircut, but we also bought him some trendy trousers from Hennes, replete with comedy low crotch, and he just looks like a boy, not my baby anymore.  Though, he has had me following him round all day going “can i just pull up your trousers”, only to find upon pulling that they’re already pulled up as far as they can go, it’s just that they’re designed to look like they’re falling down.  I think.  Or else they’re just really badly designed and i’m giving them graces that they don’t have.  They are, after all, just a cheap pair of trousers.  Either way, he’s a boy with a really annoying mother.  Will make a note to myself to stop fussing (and maybe stick it on his back?  That way can prevent last minute embarrassing mother-clucking…maybe i can get a sweatshirt made up???  Hmmm, the worrying thing is that i actually think that that is really quite a good idea).  The hat meanwhile continues to not quite crawl.  Well, not quite crawl forwards.  Crawling, kind of, backwards.  Bum shuffling, vaguely crabbing.  Generally moving, just not very elegantly or classically.  That is perhaps to be expected of a baby who genuinely thinks that making a roaring sound is a form of communication.  Obvs she learnt it off of her brother, who spends about 60% of his time roaring in one manner or another.  But is probably not helped by me and Adam roaring at her, just to get her to roar back, which we obviously find adorable, thus reinforcing the idea with her that it is a legitimate conversational noise.  Hmm, some people teach their kids to read, others to play the violin, we’ve managed to teach ours the essential skill of pretending to be a dinosaur.

Oh wee man. No more baby curls...

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