aliens and apple cores

Kids have got two of their little friend's round and, at Sons instigation, they are all playing 'martians'. He asked me to put Holst's Planets on the stereo. At the moment the Twins and their little friend are lying on the floor pretending to be dead aliens who have been killed by the baddy alien, so it's quite calm. For some reason, converting the living room into outer space involves pulling all the curtains away from the windows and draping them across the sofas. Other martian props include half eaten apples, discarded library books and upturned coffee tables. Almost exactly like being on the set of Star Wars, I think you'll agree.

Sorry, yet again, for not having written for ages. Mum and Dad have been and gone, as has my cousin's girlfriend, which just leaves him. I'm not sure what he's up to at the moment but if he ventures downstairs right now he'll be sucked into hyperspace.

Anyway, I've got over Swine Flu and now I've got a cold. Which is probably God's punishment on me for thinking less-than-Christian thoughts about my church-going bearded cousin staying for another week. I want to be a nicer person, but I'm not.

December 1st tomorrow, hurrah! Which means I can drag in the xmas tree, and we can start doing traditional family things like, erm, watching lots of DVDs and eating chocolate. Last year I put on a couple of kilos over christmas, so I'll have to be careful this year and try to share at least some of the chocolate biscuit selection box kindly bought by my visiting cousin (you see, now I'm feeling even more guilty about my attitude to his extended stay).

Twin 1 is now wondering around with a pair of pink stripey tights on her head, and plastic shoes three sizes too big. Because that's what martian's wear, apparently.

Incidentally, what are alien healthcare workers called? Doc Martians! I could make a fortune writing jokes for crackers, me. I might have to as well. The more I work on editing my book, the less convinced I am by its merit. Still, I have heard that there's a living to be made writing verses for Hallmark cards - and I could then call myself a poet, woo-hoo.

There's now some backseat driving going on in the space ship and it's starting to get a bit shouty, so I might relocate to Venus (my bedroom) in a bit.

Anyway, promise to try to write a bit more regularly in December.

TTFN x