Oh dear lord, is that the time?

Whoops. I knew this blogging lark would bite me on the bum. I think it’s been about two months since I’ve written a single word, maybe more. In my defence, I’ve moved house in that time, and the evenings have mostly seen me glaring moodily at boxes and wondering where the puncture repair kit or the wine glasses are or what has happened to my larger jeans.

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Whoops.

I knew this blogging lark would bite me on the bum. I think it’s been about two months since I’ve written a single word, maybe more. In my defence, I’ve moved house in that time, and the evenings have mostly seen me glaring moodily at boxes and wondering where the puncture repair kit or the wine glasses are or what has happened to my larger jeans.

Winter has been a cruel mistress this year, long, hard and binge-inducing.

Still, the evenings are getting lighter, the sun has doffed its hat (briefly) and I’ve started counting calories, simply because my almost 21 month old is no longer  a good excuse for a spare tyre. Fact. And as much as it pains me, I know, we all know, the only way to lose it is to ‘do the math’.

I just need to work on aforementioned toddler’s sweet tooth as his lack of interest in a Waitrose Yum Yum (think doughnut, think gluttony), led to it being stuffed, longways, directly into my mouth at lunchtime.

Bad, bad boy.

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