Holidays, holidays, hurrah for the new-to-us trampoline and that plenty of other kids are also holidaying at home this year. Twin 2's nits are pretty much gone. There were about four that seemed to linger, and Hubby took to calling them her nit family and asking what their names were. When I did the last comb and found one and showed it to Twin 2, she said, 'Oh, no, not Polly, she was just a baby and I loved her!'. Anyway, I think they're finally gone now, but I'm going to do one more comb just to make sure, in case perhaps little Roland or Uncle Frank are still hiding in there somewhere.
So, yes, the hols carry on, and I'm almost forgetting about my ambitions to become a novelist. The way things stand, I'm less bothered about being a good writer, and more bothered about being an adequate bathroom cleaner...we had some people over the other night who might be posted to Nepal and wanted to talk about it, and I couldn't shut up about the joys of domestic staff. The poor things finally managed to escape after a couple of hours of my ranting on about how nice it was not to have to tidy anything up for three years. Sigh.
Hubby finally has a job, sort of. He's been in work this week, but then is off for the rest of the hols. We're going camping next week. At least, that's the plan, but have you seen the blooming weather forecast? Honestly, I think another four days at Butlin's would be preferable to camping in the rain. Maybe I should just become too ill to go and send the rest of the family off so that I can stay home and finish my dissertation?