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Tag Archives: Crockford Bridge Farm
There have been no repeat threadworm infestation and so I am JOYOUS. Joyous that you can get a pill from your Boots (the family-sized box comes in pills of four, so we have to buy double what normal people buy) … Continue reading
Here’s an annoying word which doesn’t adequately express itself very well: Playfighting. PLAY. Playing. Playing = wholesome fun = laughing = farmyardy rough’n’tumble (non-homoerotic, in our case, because they are small, and brothers, and ugh) = ruddy cheeks and healthy-smelling … Continue reading
So, absolutely no one has asked me to write a guide for being less worried, or about parenting, or about eating more vegetables. No one. And I’m not qualified to give any advice because I live in a two-bedroomed basement … Continue reading
Look! It’s Robert Smith from The Cure! Really, it is. Both of those tiny, fuzzy, completely blurry little men are actually him, with huge hair and adult-emo-alarming makeup, in a kind of comfortable post-workout hoodie and bovver boots, singing The … Continue reading