Onto the Next Then

My strange neighbours are moving.  I am both relieved and gutted.  No more worrying about their arguments keeping The Child up at night, or waking us really early.  But no more free entertainment.  No more ability to laugh at the argument caused by a random hair found in the bathroom, or a missing bra, or not answering a mobile while at work.  The scary thing is that they appeared to be moving together.  Not splitting up yet then. 

I wonder who’ll move in next.  I just hope they’re a bit quieter.  Then again, The Child and I would be the neighbours from hell then.  I’m not sure I like that idea.  That said, we probably are the neighbours from hell anyway.  Or at least we probably were during The Child’s head-banging days.  At least she doesn’t do that so much now that I’ve moved the bed away from the wall.  And she doesn’t get out of bed to head-bang the floor.  It seems that she might be over it now.  I hope so, because if she takes it up again it’ll be another trip to the doctors.  And we still might have to go because of the tiptoeing thing which she’s doing more often again.  Grrr.  Kids.

I Can Do Positive…Honest

Actually, I have been somewhat positive lately.  Perhaps it has something to do with The Child having been back at nursery this week.  Well, since yesterday.  And she’s off again on Friday because of the royal wedding.  Joy.  But anyway, she’s going to our first choice primary school, so that’s good.  To be truthful, I didn’t actually think she’d get in there, but I do specialise in pessimism/cynicism/whatever.  She managed not to overdo the chocolate at Easter either, but she never has been one to overdo the chocolate.  Unlike me, chocoholic that I am.

There was some momentary excitement yesterday when I saw our newspaper headline “Bomb found on beach”.  On further reading it was somewhat disappointing.  No bomb, and it wasn’t on our beach but one further down the coast.  The alleged bomb was in fact a hand grenade, from WWII as well I might add.  At least we don’t have to worry about some bizarre terrorist threat here.  All we need to worry about, if worry is the right word, is this sodding referendum thing next week.  Joy.  And despite my tendency towards dumbness, I do understand the whole AV thing, but no, I have no idea which way to vote yet.  If I vote at all.  Grrr.

The Child’s five and a half year old cousin, M, still sleeps in a cot apparently.  And he still wears nappies in bed.  I am somewhat concerned about this, though I am aware it is none of my business.  He is part of The Family though, so I shouldn’t really be surprised.  He also apparently has underdeveloped leg muscles.  Not really a surprise given he was still in his pushchair right up until he started school.  He’s been given some exercises to do, but he doesn’t like doing them.  And because his legs get tired easily when walking he uses a scooter.  I’m no medic, but I did study biology up to A level, and I could be wrong, but isn’t the best way to build muscle to use the muscles?  When I feel my stomach could do with a bit of toning, I exercise.  And okay, I don’t want to overdo it too much, but there’s a difference between overdoing it and giving in a bit too soon surely?  But what do I know?  Hmm.  Maybe I’m just cruel to The Child, making her walk everywhere?  She doesn’t complain though, unless we’ve been out a while.  But she’s been walking everywhere since her pushchair broke, when she was about threeish.  I think it was around her third birthday anyway. 

Well, I’m not too ratty at the moment, but I have had enough of this royal wedding .  I didn’t really care before, but now it’s being rammed down my throat at every opportunity by the press/TV/etc, I’ve totally lost my patience.  And no, I certainly won’t be watching it.  The Child did make me a nice flower thingy at nursery today though.  I just pray she doesn’t start going on about weddings.  Please don’t let The Child become infected by wedding mania too.  In truth I don’t actually know anyone who is excited by it.  I just pass all the pubs with their bunting and flags, and shops with their newspaper displays every day.  Grrr.  I’ve never been bothered about weddings, but I think I might be getting slightly wedding phobic.  Oh dear.

There Aren’t Enough Heroic Donkeys in the World…

But there are plenty of wool shops it seems. Down this one particular street in my town anyway. Oh yes, someone has opened a wool shop in direct competition to Psycho’s. To rub salt into the wound, it was one of his old customers as well. To be fair on her though, she did think he was shutting up shop as he’d been closed for months. Since The Canadian’s return, Psycho has reopened however. The other shop is bigger though. And it looks a lot nicer inside. It’s not a well established business however, so probably won’t last long. Such a shame, but we have to be realistic about these things. It still makes me smile.

The wool shop thing aside however, I wasn’t kidding about the heroic donkey. A donkey in my town has been awarded a medal. Even better, this donkey lives on a farm up by my parents’ house, so it’s their neighbour. Something to be proud of. She saved her sheep friend from being savaged by a dog apparently. So there we are, just a little bit of good news.