Farewell BaM

Ah, I developed a lovely habit a little too late - every Sunday for the past few weeks I've been driving over to Chiswick to spend Sunday evening with Michelle and Ben (be it in their flat, at dinner or comedy in the theatre at Gunnersbury).

But now, they're off back home and I'm a sad little vegemite. Best of luck dudes! I know you'll love being back home :)

Here's a few pics from their farewell party:

Nicky, Ben, Mich

Damo, Mich, Me, Davo

The bookclub girls - Kim, Gabrielle, Les, Mich

Me and Mich

Mich, Davo and Me

Kittens vs ladybirds

Damian has never had proper pets.


Well, ok, he had a rabbit called Thumper and a budgie called Sam. But I don't think they count.


I think he needs a proper pet. Like a nice fluffy kitten. I think it's a matter of urgency given how fond he's grown really of the ladybirds that are hibernating in our lounge room.


They've set up house in the corner by the warmth of our halogen lamp. There's at least 20 of them. And they've slowly been waking from their slumber and exploring our ceiling.
Damian is enraptured and has decided they're our new pets. We don't need a kitten, he says, when we've got ladybirds!


He has lots of fun when he gets home in the evenings, counting them, remarking on how far they've travelled that day. Sometimes he gets excited when they've moved close to the window. He wants to help them be free and sings "flyaway ladybirds" like a lullaby.


Sometimes he's tried to help them out himself, but they generally just fall to the ground and get lost on our red coloured carpet. So we'll be there on our hands and knees, looking for fallen ladybirds. And we don't end up finding them. He says he hopes they're ok. I'm sure they are.


He says they've become his pets. I've tried to reason with him. He can't pat them the way you can a kitten. The closest he's got is poking them with our vacuum cleaner nozzle to check they weren't spiders.


There are times when I have to console him when we smell burning coming from our hallogen lamp and discovered that a ladybird or two has mistaken it for the sun :(


At least kittens will interact. And let you pat them. And are unlikely to commit suicide by flying into a light bulb.

Happy Chinese New Year

Well, Thursday nights are the new Fridays, and Monday nights are the new Saturdays. You've heard me say similiar things before.

Thurs night was another meeting of Balham Babes (don't ask me -Davo's idea ;) - this time at Firefly on the High Road. A good night! Nice to see everyone and hear all the news.

The weekend you've just read about. Monday night we went to a fundraise at a comedy club on Tattershall's Castle (a boat permanently moored on the Thames). Fun, but I was tired. Not the spring chicken I used to be ;)

Tues and Wed nights have been non-exciting - but tonight I'm off to celebrate Chinese New Year with Beth and co out in Acton. It'll be the first time I will have ever tried lobster so I'm very excited.

PS: an update - the lobster was good!

Duke Damo and real posh stuff

So, what's been happening? How can I make my life sound way more exciting than it really is.... hmmmm...

I won't tell you how I spent both Friday and Saturday nights in over the weekend. That wouldn't live up to the glittering Big Overseas Experience illusion...

And I won't go in to too much detail about how Saturday afternoon was just a cruisy lunch at Blue Pumpkin cafe in Balham, followed by some aimless wandering about the shops in Clapham Junction. And I won't bother to tell you that the most exciting thing I bought was a couple of Women's Weekly cook books.

[Da da da daaaah, da de dahh, da de dahhhhhhh... picture mist and fog and abra-cadabra music and stuff and you've jumped back in time and are re-reading my blog forgetting all that you have just read... the words that follow are the true reality of my life...]

Over the weekend, Damian fulfilled his promise to take me to his little "week-ender".

I've not mentioned it previously, but Damo is a Duke (of Surrey) and has three stuffy Victorian middle names to prove it - Arthur, Edward and Greg. He's pretty shy about it so you won't hear him go on about how rich he is and stuff.

Anyway, the week-ender is called Polesden Lacey and it's about an hour's drive from where we are down in to the county of Surrey.

It's a grand old dame of a house - the Queen Mother even honeymooned there. Beautiful grounds too - hundreds of hectares of woodlands and manicured gardens and croquet lawns and stuff. The cooks served us a wonderful roast lunch.

I know, I know... you're probably wondering why we live in a shoe box in Balham when clearly life could be so much more comfortable if upped sticks and moved to the country.

Well, think about that song from Pulp about common people and stuff. Damo wants to be like common people. He wants to do things that common people do ;) Like work and stuff. And commute. And hear his neighbours stomp around at all hours. Yeah.

That's me overlooking the croquet lawn daaaahhhhling.