Sorry I've not written a great deal recently, but as you know, things have been rather difficult of late. My estranged husband has now rented a flat in the vicinity so access to Seb is all well and good. I'm slowly getting there, it was a shock but sometimes these things are necessary to extracate you from a comfort zone. The pre-sale renovations on this house are commencing next week because, according to my errant spouse, 'it's an awful back biting world of property sales out there.'
I'm co-hosting an Ann Summers party here tonight in conjunction with my friend from up the road Jane Turner-Smith. JTS as she's known is a strange woman who lives with her husband and five rescue cats all named after members of Take That. She doesn't really like children though and suggested that I attach barbed wire to Seb's safety gate to stop him from descending the stairs at night. People without kids, aren't they weird?
Talking of odd, I can't believe that I've invited my cousin Margaret along tonight, she's such a bore! I don't really care that she's been bequeathed a tortoise by her friend Annabel or that she's still stepping out with that tedious Wilf. Note to self: must spike her drinks.
