Oh hello, sorry about the silence, I'm still recovering from the Butlin's experience. Sharing four whole days with the equivalent of the disgorged contents of an EasyJet flight has taken its toll. The kids loved it, but Hubby and I have had to break it to them that we are never ever going to go to Butlin's again. Ever. On the way back we had to visit not one, but two National Trust properties in order to fully cleanse ourselves of the chavtastic experience. Luckily the Olympic opening ceremony was on when we got back home, so we could watch it and feel proud to be British again, instead of faintly sullied by association. Talking of which, my sister-in-law was in the opening ceremony (if you were watching carefully you might have glanced the back of her head) and my niece - the cheerobics one - is going to be in the closing ceremony. I'm quite jealous, actually, wish I'd been there to see Her Majesty parachute in in person (the twins think that bit was real, and I'm not about to bust their bubble: a parachuting Queen, what a role model, eh?).
Anyway, I'm going to go now, and revel in living in a place that doesn't have drunken arguments raging outside my bedroom window, and not having to share space with people that I'm a teensy bit scared of because I'm worried that if I look at them funny they'll beat me up in the loos.
Tootle pip! x