It encourages me to sanitise myself, the house, the dog and everything Bear has been within ten feet of. I am already using masks, gloves and hand sanitiser and wiping down everything before I touch it.
Tag Archives: Baking
Martian Slavery, Expecting Too Much & The Food Stalker
Irritated beyond comprehension by the lack of Bear’s control over his bloody annoying daughter, both were in the firing line of my damned-near volcanic temper.
Floodwater, Procrastination, Sports Obsession & Wedding Avoidance
Great.! Nothing like stinking, stagnant water and flying, buzzing, bitey things to contend with while you’re trying to drag sopping wet, old, deteriorating cardboard boxes away from the water, and all the crap you (Bear) were supposed to have gotten rid of down the tip, three years ago while sweating like a turkey at Thanksgiving.!
Living On The Edge, Christmas Pudding & The New Niece
I’ve just spent a little over an hour sat on my own, in silence, waiting for him to put the fucking Internet down and spend time with me, while he’s been poncing about playing some Star Trek style game, waiting for me to sit in my spot on the sofa because it seems the TV remote doesn’t work if I’m even an inch out of place.!
Buzzcuts, Bundt Cake & Hot Pants
So far her presents have included a 3000 piece puzzle she’d wanted, a floating hammock, a set of silver jewellery and a €30 voucher for her local ice cream parlour. She’ll be visiting a wildlife park in Den Haag when the lockdown is lifted, with her mother.
Pup Insanity, A Vet Visit & Out Of Date Dairy
“Stop eating my bloody bike, you little ratbag.!” We can’t put them anywhere else unfortunately and I don’t see why we should. He needs to learn to leave stuff alone.
Pastry, Fucking Pastry & The Namer of Storms
Storm Ciara has decided to pay us a visit. Who makes up these names.? Do they get paid to.? Is there going to be a Storm Colin or a Hurricane Nigel at some point.?
Pasties, Socialising and Hampton’s Shirt
I just sit there listening and observing and smiling benignly when they tell rude jokes and then apologise to me for their language, like they don’t know I’m English and can out cuss them any day of the week.
Dear Diary... 