Airfield

We went to Airfield yesterday. The sun had actually come out from its witness protection program, so we took hasty advantage and legged it over to this lovely working(ish) farm and took in the new piggies, hens, cows and Giant Connect 4. Obviously the Giant Connect 4 is a very rare breed, and possibly only bred in captivity these days. But I must say, it was very friendly and the kids enjoyed playing with it very much. As long as they don't ask to get one of course. I'll have to remind them, a Connect 4 is for life, not just for Christmas ...





Hands up who thinks I'll do a 'Spot the Pigs' gag? Ha!







There was ham in them thar toasties. And nary a qualm raised it's guilty head. Really, this was only minutes after cooing over the new piglets. Ruthless. And I had just killed a wasp with my iPhone. Bloodthirsty, the lot of us.





Big Sister Oub was inspired to dance by the beauty she saw around her. The natural splendor, God's scattered glitter of wildflowers, filled her soul with an unstoppable urge to express the joy it inspired. Either that or she's a little teapot.





How exciting, more pigs. Spotty. And one had an odd looking bottom. As city types, born and bred we debated for a while whether this odd looking bottom was correct pig genitalia or an actual deformity. We decided, kids and I, that surely God had not intended the piggie privates to look quite this startling. So, in all probability it was a slight developmental whoopsie in porcine utero. We didn't hold it against him. Or her.



Exhausted from fighting, they lent on each other, much like when boxers snuggle after a particularly ferocious flurry of thumping.





Big Sister would say 'Cheese' and be looking at the camera and Little Sister would look at her (maybe pondering, cheese? Where??) And then she'd look at me and I'd yell at Big Sister to look back at the camera and she'd look at me and say 'Cheese!' and Little Sister would look away again (Where?? Where? Why do I keep missing this phantom Cheese??!) I gave up after try number 10. By which point everyone was cross and the baby was really quite hungry.



So, all in all a fun day. We tried to trick Mr Oub into thinking we'd wasted the only sunny day this year going to Ikea. Sadly, he believed us that that's where we'd been and wasn't cross at all. Just sadly resigned. Oh well.

Airfield

We went to Airfield yesterday. The sun had actually come out from its witness protection program, so we took hasty advantage and legged it over to this lovely working(ish) farm and took in the new piggies, hens, cows and Giant Connect 4. Obviously the Giant Connect 4 is a very rare breed, and possibly only bred in captivity these days. But I must say, it was very friendly and the kids enjoyed playing with it very much. As long as they don't ask to get one of course. I'll have to remind them, a Connect 4 is for life, not just for Christmas ...


Hands up who thinks I'll do a 'Spot the Pigs' gag? Ha!



There was ham in them thar toasties. And nary a qualm raised it's guilty head. Really, this was only minutes after cooing over the new piglets. Ruthless. And I had just killed a wasp with my iPhone. Bloodthirsty, the lot of us.


Big Sister Oub was inspired to dance by the beauty she saw around her. The natural splendor, God's scattered glitter of wildflowers, filled her soul with an unstoppable urge to express the joy it inspired. Either that or she's a little teapot.


How exciting, more pigs. Spotty. And one had an odd looking bottom. As city types, born and bred we debated for a while whether this odd looking bottom was correct pig genitalia or an actual deformity. We decided, kids and I, that surely God had not intended the piggie privates to look quite this startling. So, in all probability it was a slight developmental whoopsie in porcine utero. We didn't hold it against him. Or her.

Exhausted from fighting, they lent on each other, much like when boxers snuggle after a particularly ferocious flurry of thumping.


Big Sister would say 'Cheese' and be looking at the camera and Little Sister would look at her (maybe pondering, cheese? Where??) And then she'd look at me and I'd yell at Big Sister to look back at the camera and she'd look at me and say 'Cheese!' and Little Sister would look away again (Where?? Where? Why do I keep missing this phantom Cheese??!) I gave up after try number 10. By which point everyone was cross and the baby was really quite hungry.

So, all in all a fun day. We tried to trick Mr Oub into thinking we'd wasted the only sunny day this year going to Ikea. Sadly, he believed us that that's where we'd been and wasn't cross at all. Just sadly resigned. Oh well.

Books, books, books.

I think it's time for the Kindle.



Cause we have a problem.



Mr Oub spent sometime recently putting up five long high capacity shelves. Our books had been living out in the shed for the past few month since we demolished a wall and had no where else to put them. Amazingly the cold and damp didn't destroy them. Odd. But I guess we all knew there was something inherently sinister about chick lit novels.

So, here is a pic of Mr Oub's handy work. And I suspect you see a problem. There is only a teensy bit of space at the top for all the books we expect to acquire during the rest of our lives. And, if I could be arsed to get up off the sofa and stop drinking so much wine, that could be at least forty years from now.



I've tried thinning them out. Rather like the children, I really should dispatch them to a better home, but I just get so sentimental and can't be without any of them. Even when, (again like the children) they're rubbish. (Only kidding Oub kiddies! Honestly. Only one or two of you are rubbish.)



So, perhaps more shelves? Where? The whole bloody house is coming down with the things.



For example -



The livingroom. Of course these generally are only our best books. Our best literary towels for visitors. Books that make us look fierce well read and intellectual. As long as no one inspects the virgins spines we might just pull that off.





Do you like how Mr Oub has colour coded the books for a pleasing aesthetic? It does mean a few potboilers sneak in just for their good looks. But isn't that always the way in life, that good looks will get your farther than you deserve?



You wouldn't believe the dust these collect. Perhaps if we read them once in a while?



So, to upstairs. Any space here? Nope. In the bedroom? Bedrooms are meant to be calm restful spaces with little clutter and few distractions. Hence mine is jammers full. And I'm always tired.





Even the much maligned Oub children have books coming out their ears.



No one should think that this post is some sort of false modesty effort - 'oh woe is me, look at all these books (I am so intellectual!!!! Be impressed!!)' Anyone who was reading VariousCushions blog recently will know I publicly admitted my desperate ignorance of modern classics. I had not only not read any of the books she had listed, but hadn't even heard of many of the authors. If they haven't been name checked in Heat magazine, I'm all adrift.



This post is a cry for help. Whether it's the directions to Book Hoarders Anonymous, or an exhortation to adopt Various' Chinese-like concept of a 'One Shelf' policy (What is with the books/children analogies today?) I need help.



Or I need a Kindle.



If I don't get a Kindle, and in fact one for each member of the family you could be reading about us in the papers soon. 'Nobbled by Novels!', 'Books Bury Brood!', 'The Dangers of Reading - family found under killer mountain of cheap paperbacks.'



I think you, my reader, need to pass around the hat. Get the collection boxes rattling. Six shiny new Kindles, and you could save a life!



You.



Yes YOU, could be a hero!



(I'll have my kindle in the orange leather case. ta.)

Books, books, books.

I think it's time for the Kindle.

Cause we have a problem.

Mr Oub spent sometime recently putting up five long high capacity shelves. Our books had been living out in the shed for the past few month since we demolished a wall and had no where else to put them. Amazingly the cold and damp didn't destroy them. Odd. But I guess we all knew there was something inherently sinister about chick lit novels.

So, here is a pic of Mr Oub's handy work. And I suspect you see a problem. There is only a teensy bit of space at the top for all the books we expect to acquire during the rest of our lives. And, if I could be arsed to get up off the sofa and stop drinking so much wine, that could be at least forty years from now.

I've tried thinning them out. Rather like the children, I really should dispatch them to a better home, but I just get so sentimental and can't be without any of them. Even when, (again like the children) they're rubbish. (Only kidding Oub kiddies! Honestly. Only one or two of you are rubbish.)

So, perhaps more shelves? Where? The whole bloody house is coming down with the things.

For example -

The livingroom. Of course these generally are only our best books. Our best literary towels for visitors. Books that make us look fierce well read and intellectual. As long as no one inspects the virgins spines we might just pull that off.


Do you like how Mr Oub has colour coded the books for a pleasing aesthetic? It does mean a few potboilers sneak in just for their good looks. But isn't that always the way in life, that good looks will get your farther than you deserve?

You wouldn't believe the dust these collect. Perhaps if we read them once in a while?

So, to upstairs. Any space here? Nope. In the bedroom? Bedrooms are meant to be calm restful spaces with little clutter and few distractions. Hence mine is jammers full. And I'm always tired.


Even the much maligned Oub children have books coming out their ears.

No one should think that this post is some sort of false modesty effort - 'oh woe is me, look at all these books (I am so intellectual!!!! Be impressed!!)' Anyone who was reading VariousCushions blog recently will know I publicly admitted my desperate ignorance of modern classics. I had not only not read any of the books she had listed, but hadn't even heard of many of the authors. If they haven't been name checked in Heat magazine, I'm all adrift.

This post is a cry for help. Whether it's the directions to Book Hoarders Anonymous, or an exhortation to adopt Various' Chinese-like concept of a 'One Shelf' policy (What is with the books/children analogies today?) I need help.

Or I need a Kindle.

If I don't get a Kindle, and in fact one for each member of the family you could be reading about us in the papers soon. 'Nobbled by Novels!', 'Books Bury Brood!', 'The Dangers of Reading - family found under killer mountain of cheap paperbacks.'

I think you, my reader, need to pass around the hat. Get the collection boxes rattling. Six shiny new Kindles, and you could save a life!

You.

Yes YOU, could be a hero!

(I'll have my kindle in the orange leather case. ta.)

Did you hear the one about....

Because I don't actually have a functioning brain anymore, I had to steal this post from The Telegraph. It is so funny though. Enjoy :)

"I have kleptomania. But when it gets bad, I take something for it."

Ken Dodd

"I’m a hunt saboteur. I go out the night before and shoot the fox."

Tim Vine

"I need cheering up. I lent my friend $8,000 for plastic surgery. Now I don’t know what he looks like.

Emo Philips

"My girlfriend had a phantom pregnancy. Now we have a little baby ghost."

Jimmy Carr

"A man loses his dog, so he puts an ad in the paper. And the ad says, “Here, boy!”

Spike Milligan

"I’m addicted to placebos. I’d give them up, but it wouldn’t make any difference."

Jay Leno

"I saw six men kicking and punching the mother-in-law. My neighbour said, “Aren’t you going to help?” I said, “No, six should be enough.”

Les Dawson

"They laughed when I said I was going to be a comedian. They’re not laughing now."

Bob Monkhouse

"It's easy to distract fat people. It's a piece of cake."

Chris Addison

"These are my principles. If you don't like them, I have others."

Groucho Marx

Did you hear the one about....

Because I don't actually have a functioning brain anymore, I had to steal this post from The Telegraph. It is so funny though. Enjoy :)

"I have kleptomania. But when it gets bad, I take something for it."

Ken Dodd

"I’m a hunt saboteur. I go out the night before and shoot the fox."

Tim Vine

"I need cheering up. I lent my friend $8,000 for plastic surgery. Now I don’t know what he looks like.

Emo Philips

"My girlfriend had a phantom pregnancy. Now we have a little baby ghost."

Jimmy Carr

"A man loses his dog, so he puts an ad in the paper. And the ad says, “Here, boy!”

Spike Milligan

"I’m addicted to placebos. I’d give them up, but it wouldn’t make any difference."

Jay Leno

"I saw six men kicking and punching the mother-in-law. My neighbour said, “Aren’t you going to help?” I said, “No, six should be enough.”

Les Dawson

"They laughed when I said I was going to be a comedian. They’re not laughing now."

Bob Monkhouse

"It's easy to distract fat people. It's a piece of cake."

Chris Addison

"These are my principles. If you don't like them, I have others."

Groucho Marx