I am here

but am finding the stresses and strains of parenthood and working too much like hard work. So I don’t blog because I’ve got bugger all to say or I’m too tired to say it. I don’t have the kids minded so I work whenever I can fit it in and it is a nightmare and I don’t have an office so I have to clear everything away so that the kids don’t do anything dire with my equipment.

Apart from that I have a lumpy lawn, cobwebs and chipped paint wherever I look mainly due to me slamming doors in temper and Olly riding his scooter round the house then crashing it into the paintwork as he does a “I’ve watched the Extreme Sports Channel too much” dive. Rosa has put the terrible in two like you wouldn’t believe and has just told me to fuck off. Billie’s informed me at the age of five that she doesn’t like the way she looks. I’ve been out socially four times in the last year, I’m ageing faster than Dorian’s picture and I have a headache every single day.

Now, Ivan, I bet you wish you hadn’t asked. Sorry.

One comment

  • Sounds about par for the course. And don’t, after that, say you’ve got nothing to say – that was wonderful!
    I suffer the same with mine. Get it out, get out, get it off yer chest. Blog it.

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