We were on our first week of the Easter holidays. I was under no illusion about that when I was promptly told at 3.30pm on Friday 3rd April. No school stuff, please. Of course not, so we played shops in the garden with all our toy money (who knew I’d have to buy a tennis ball for £500!), and there was a rather extensive menu list to read in the ‘conservatory restaurant’ . . .

So, tales from my first week of the Easter holidays.

My fashion faux pas was brought to light after receipt of a parcel. After I brought it in, my other half duly asked ‘did you go out like that?’. Now, my other half is not himself a fashion expert, but I rate slightly higher in the knowledge ranks (or so I thought). So, for him to ask the question, there was something drastically wrong. 

On looking in the mirror, I saw a very colourful paintball attire. My zipped grey top was open to display a bright ‘n’ bold orange and pink flowered long length t-shirt, paired with black leggings (best of the lot), complete with a fetching pair of lime green sports socks and a pair of 100-year-old brown mules. The next phone call I’d get would probably be from Cindy Lauper wanting her clothes back.

In my defence, I could argue that it was my ‘home’ clothes, something different to jeans and a t-shirt, or a smart shirt with PJ bottoms when I have to face chat anyone. However, there are limits to fashionable tolerance and I think I boldly went where no one should go in this fashion day and age. On reflection, it did explain the funny look I got from the delivery people.

Later on, we were having a water fight when Daughter suddenly shrieked out ‘I wet your man parts!’ to Daddy. I laughed so hard that I fell over the collection of ‘stone eggs’ we had been collecting, prompting my lime green feet and 100-year-old mules to flail proudly in the air which may, or may not, have caused Daddy to wet his own man parts. 


One of the things I’m quite good at is writing ditties. Something like: 

Look for the clue

Where you bounce up high

Up and down

As you fly through the sky

Daughter likes me to do ditty clues for an egg hunt at Easter. This year, I confess, I was not really motivated to make up many ditties. So, when shopping at the supermarket, imagine my delight at seeing that they did a ready-made egg hunt. Bacon saved! It all went surprisingly well until I was asked where the ditties were for the outside hunt. Did I get away with it? Did I heck. My bacon got well and truly fried. Fifteen rhymes later I was allowed one mini egg as a reward for making up such fun! So much for the great supermarket save.


Our budgie has not been himself of late. We consulted Doc Google and went through a number of ailments from feather mites to liver problems to just been stressed out due to having people in the house 24/7 and all the noise and shenanigans that come with it. I put some vitamin drops in his water then tried to encourage him to the water on my hand. That’s when the Mexican Avian Standoff commenced. The little bandit kept running up one arm, behind my head, down the other arm. Obviously through I was trying to poison him with ‘magic water’ and was happy to run a budgie marathon to avoid it. Suffice to say he’d worked up an appetite, flew to his cage then delved into some millet. Conclusion: don’t think he’s as ill as we thought he was. I admitted defeat about the water, but not about the vitamins. He seems perfectly happy to eat the tasty seeds in the bowl . . .