Saturday, 24 August 2013

Why - yes - my children ARE still at home for the holidays.

And I'm gradually losing control of my house...

Makeshift beds are appearing in whichever bedroom the boys feel like camping in.
 (My seven-year-old's soft toys are elsewhere - he's currently choosing to sleep with a notebook and a gun.
What does that even mean?)
Aha! I came across some of the missing toys riding into the fireplace on a horse. (Of course.)

 My bedside reading pile has been submerged by Enid Blyton books (about children on their hols.)  
Looks as if the famous boy wizard has been using my coffee table - before apparating.
Meanwhile, someone has been using the kitchen table as a workbench - upon which they've been fixing their father's laptop with this plastic hammer. Oh God! 
 Every shelf is full of sweets which have been brought here by grandparents, then confiscated when tummy-aches ensue. (Can't believe people still eat Wham bars - bleugh!)
The carpet is covered with deadly marble patches...

As are the beds...

 Although - oddly - there are none in the marble-run. So what have they been putting down this then?
Frozen peas? Porridge? Forget it - I don't want to know.

Even outside, there's no escape from it all. Is it September yet? Please?

 Only three books left on my summer reading list now. American Wife, Star of Kazan and The Book Thief - and I'm not sure I'll manage them all in the next week and a half. I suspect The Book Thief will remain my unread BOOK-OF-SHAME - the one that everyone but me has read and raved about.

Although I did interrupt the list to read Anna and the French Kiss for all the pretty Parisian scenery and I re-read the Scarlet Pimpernel for - oh, everything really.
I'm not at the end of my list yet, but I'm pretty sure my favourite will turn out to be the Neil Gaiman. I loved it.

My favourite ALWAYS turns out to be the Neil Gaiman.

1 comment:

  1. Sounds like a busy summer hols over at your place!