Oops

I've had to delete the address for Bubbles and wipe the history on both computers as no-one was doing anything other than playing it, or watching someone else playing it. So it doesn't exist any more.
Now to delete the TV......

Google is not your friend

I discoved **** game a few years back, but lost the link. The yesterday I was googling, and it reappeared. Consequently today the Baby Smats have been engaged in lots of "independent learning" and "co-operative play" as I've been sucked back in back in to "just one more go".
Oh dear.

Am I Being Unreasonable?

I wanted to buy some tights today for Eldest Baby Smat. They're for school, so have to be black. She's not especially careful, so they need to be at least 40 denier to minimise laddering. They need to be either ladies small, or childrens age 13-14.
So, off we go to Bluewater to the flagship M&S store. Big shop, rubbish weather, plenty of tights, yes? Well, actually no. Children's department have plenty of navy blue tights in all sizes, or black in age 5-6. Women's department has brown. In Large or Extra Large. Apparently there's "no call for plain black tights any more". Since when? We don't all have the legs for fishnets these days.
So, Am I Being Unreasonable? I don't think so.

(and if you know of anywhere which sells 40 denier black tights in Small, let me know please)

Look's like November's going to be busy

I've just taken on two new clients (well, both old clients really) for book-keeping and general financial stuff, as my wishlist of things I want has got longer and more expensive. But, one client needs six months of work done in one month (that would be November) and if Gordon listens to David then I'll have a night of weighing the Tory vote as well. So a 4am finish on the day of a general elction, which means missing 6 hours of sleep, which means another 12 hours is needed to catch up, which means I'll surface sometime in December, just in time to pick up on other client, all in the run-up to Christmas.
Eek.

I am such a devoted mother

In order to support EBS through her Media Studies GCSE In One Year course (for which she had to read Pride and Prejudice during the holidays), I have forced myself to endure six hours of Colin Firth* in breeches and boots, and this evening I have another two hours doing a "compare and contrast" excercise with the Matthew MacFadyen film version.
Life is hard.

* "Who's Colin Firth? Is he one of those old blokes you fancy Mum?" Honestly, teenagers today have no idea.

Let them eat cake

EBS made a rather yummy cake yesterday, and I couldn't have any of it because I'm back on the Cambridge Diet again in an attempt to fit into the few items of clothing I have left due to my over-enthusiastic purging of non-essentials. There are three slices left, and three of us in the house.
What a dilemma.

beyond bored and fed up, now resigned

oh my word, why is it so hard to get a new job? Mr Smat is apparently over qualified and over experienced for the particular jobs he's been in discussions about. So it would seem I'm not about to to be moving to Australia. Which is probably just as well, as I don't do sun. Or heat. Or suncream. (have been busy painting though, in case we need to put the house up for sale)
In other news, Very Clever Eldest Baby Smat managed two weeks at York University talking about class, the Suffragette movement, and who was the sexiest Residential Assistant. Plus getting to grips with quantum physics ("it's like Maths but with no zero, it has to be one thing or the other") and current British politics with two future Prime Ministers (one's called Axel - you heard it here first).
So all guesses were wrong, Mr Smat and I are not the Gordon Browns, although Mr S was rather amused, as being a tax adviser, he is one of the few groups of people who actually benefited from GB's reign as Treasurer. More complex taxes = more wine for Smat. Result.