I'm at home, alone. Well with babies. It's 8.30pm and Anna's at some flash restaurant with a bunch of sheilas - this is my first night 'on duty' myself. I've just finished bouncing babies.
I'm sorely tempted to rant about Derek Conway (non UK readers type the name into a google news search) but I won't. It's not that I'd say anything that isn't already in the public domain, but it still could be a career limiting move!
Our neighbour, Tommy Telly died just a few hours ago. We got home from Wimbledon with Sophie and Kate snug asleep on us in their Baby Bjorns. The Bill was in attendance, they'd broken Tommy's door down. Poor Tommy, it's a very, very sad story; he'd accidentally drowned himself in his own bath. He was a nice old chap but in more than two years I never once saw him sober. Selling Tommy alcohol was like letting a child poke their fingers into a power point, eventually everyone knew something like this would happen. It makes me angry.
No comments:
Post a Comment