There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
My mother used to say this to me on a regular basis when I was little and if she’d seen me recently, she’d probably have quoted it again. I haven’t blogged this week because it wouldn’t have been a happy, sunny, isn’t life wonderful post.
Instead of photos of pretty coloured yarn, I would have posted photos of my messy cupboard. I’ve been cross and felt like a horrid little girl in a pair of white ankle socks and red Start-rite Mary-Jane shoes stamping my feet. I could have shooed everyone from the house, tipped out a box of cornflakes and jumped up and down on them as my mother-in-law once did.
And all because some sleazy thieving pixeys decided to put some false number plates on stolen vehicles, ram our yard gates at 2 in the morning and steal two of the caravans stored in the compound. It makes me so cross that that the caravan owners and I have had to waste so much time dealing with the consequences of their criminal actions.
And then we lost the last netball game of the winter season by three goals. Doh.
But I’ve calmed down now. The caravan owners lost their caravans, we’ve got repairs to make and other caravan owners to placate; but the police intercepted one caravan, the other one is insured and most importantly, no-one’s hurt. We’re all still here. It is but a minor blip in life.