WARNING!!! Step away from this blog! I'm pulling my soapbox out from under the stairs, even as I type. I use the word "type", with lots of poetic license, as I'm not sure the use of just two fingers, constitutes "typing"!
I'm sure it's not right....that my two metre square living room is constantly used as a football training camp.
I'm sure it's not right....that Daughter No 1 enlists the help of The Son and The Partner, to critisise my culinary skills (I've successfully fed her for the past 21 years after all! Actually, The Son was quickly won back over, with the promise of sausages, baked beans and mash potatoes for tea tommorrow. Hah! Who says I'm not a whizz in the kitchen??)
I'm sure it's not right...that The Partner does not like my latest Flying Geese Quilt.
I'm sure it's not right....that I still haven't had my turn at winning the lottery.
ABOVE ALL, I'm sure it's not right....that the Little Man Sitting In His Little Office At The Back Of Whitehall, inventing yet new Methods Of Torture To Plot The Learning Capacity Of Two Year Olds, should make it so BLINKING difficult to download his latest idea....AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!
Bunting......I need bunting......