Category Archives: Family

Saxelby News!

I’ve decided it’s about time that I started blogging again, having been “meaning to” for far too long! Since last time I blogged my life has moved on in many ways, although it is probably just as hectic. The kids are older: –  Rosie (16), Clyde (15), Daisy (13), Violet (9) and Troll (7)…all right, she’s really called Marigold – but  she still answers to “Troll” – that’s one thing that hasn’t changed!

They now spend less time watching Peppa Pig from the inside of cardboard boxes while covertly smearing themselves with Sudocrem or coating the carpets in a two-inch-deep layer of Littlest Petshop paraphernalia. In fact, they have actually become quite exceptional in the art of entertaining themselves. Their interests have moved on and they now spend their time trampolining, cheerleading, dancing, running, cycling, fishing, (in Clyde’s case), playing in the river, looking for bird nests, making dens, pony riding, guitar playing (Rosie), singing and playing with makeup (not in Clyde’s case obviously – although the girls do sometimes try to apply some when he is asleep).

Other less welcome activities from a parents’ perspective include arguing over the tv remote; watching Hollyoaks and other horrifically mundane tv shows, including strange cartoons where the characters all seem to be from some weird cat-bird-rabbit-like species and partaking in shooting mean and unexpected video “Boomerangs” of one another using their mobile phones or tablets and then threatening to upload the result to social media.

I have been purposely scaling down my horse breeding business (I’m now down to seven horses, of which two are the kids’ ponies). Seven probably sounds like loads to most people but I once had 25.

I never really ever intended to have as many as 25 but when you are breeding horses they can quickly multiply! Having so many was great for my mucking out muscles and core strength but not for my haylage bill, spare time or husband’s sanity.

My horses are soon to become just a hobby business – once I have backed, schooled and sold the youngsters that I still have. If the children continue to show enthusiasm (and stop answering me back when I am giving them lessons) then we will keep two or three. They make good lawnmowers anyway.

Our new business venture is called “Saxelby News” and my role in it will running the digital side of Jon’s public relations and journalism business. He’ll still be doing the traditional press releases and newspaper stuff – I will be providing content marketing, social media marketing, social media assistance and digital communications packages to businesses. I am initially concentrating on business-types that I already have a large digital following from (I have 17,000 online followers who are a mixture of triathletes, cyclists, swimmers, runners and horse lovers – although I do also seem to collect quite a few crazy Scottish gin-loving ladies too…mentioning no names, obviously 😉 ).

I have already taken on a couple of cycling-based clients and will be working with my totally mad Amercian friend, Kem,  publicising her very funny new life-help and nutritional-themed book and documentary, Eat Meat and Be Happy!

(Can’t wait Kem – playing on Instagram, Facetiming and drinking coffee is far more fun than mucking out 25 horses a day!)

I’ll keep this one shortish as it was mainly a test to see if I could remember the log in details to this account (winner!).  I am still very much obsessed with triathlon and running (I’ve somehow qualified again for the Zofingen long distance duathlon World championships later this year). My future blog posts will be a mixture of family, sport, cycling, triathlon, running, swimming, training, digital marketing and horses…with a bit of hen balancing, dogs in barrows and escapee tortoises thrown in!).

I am running a 36 mile Ultra run called The Longhorn on Sunday, so I predict my next blog entry will be on Monday or Tuesday when I cannot get off the sofa and do not have the lure of running or cycling to distract me!

Please share this on Facebook and your other social media sites with any sporty, triathletely, horsey friends that you have..or with anyone you think might find my future posts entertaining – thank you, Lucy

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Filed under Breeding, children, cyclists, digital marketing, dressage, Equine, Family, fitness, Horses, kids, large families, marketing, news, nutrition, Running, running a business, social media, social media marketing, Sport, ultra running, Uncategorized

Lucy’s Observations of the Day

I am a born optimist and always like to make the best out of a bad situation. With so many children, horses and sporting interests, something invariably goes wrong in my week. Rather than dwell on it, I try to just get on with things and report it to Facebook in the form of a status update beginning with the words “Lucy’s Observation of the day…”. Today’s blog entry includes some of the most popular/idiotic Saxely Observations that have occurred in the last 18 months, I hope you like them (and that reading them may help you avoid similar errors!).

If you really want to irritate your husband,  I have found that picking up a dead mole to show to the kids and then forgetting about it and leaving it on your mother-in-law’s kitchen window-sill for ten days works wonders….”Lucy, why is there a rotten dead mole on mum’s window ledge? This is just the sort of thing that annoys me about you”

1) If you under-cook sugar mice, they don’t set and form an alien gloop that is impossible to remove from anything. (2) If you over-cook sugar mice they taste worse than poo. (3) If you cook sugar mice to perfection, you get immediately hassled by at least six people to test one. (4) Basset hounds like burnt sugar mice. (5) Feeding burnt sugar mice to basset hounds equals a nasty crumbly residue on the carpet and a dog with a sticky nose.

Mucking out a 10-day-old foal, who has yet to go out into the field due to the wet weather, is comparable to being in a charity shop changing room with a stunt rider on a Kawasaki with a nitrous kit.

Howling basset hounds following you around the school when you are cantering do nothing to improve the concentration levels of a young horse.

It is wise, when letting the dog finish off food directly from a dinner plate, to remember to pick up the plate prior to your husband coming in and seeing it.

Two year old girls and bright red Clinique lipsticks can never exist harmoniously together in the same house.

Loft insulation is one of the worst things on earth.

Elderly people’s incontinence pads do not stay securely in place when used as stand-in nappies for toddlers, even with half a roll of your husband’s electrical tape.

You know that your three-year-old child is a genetic upgrade on her father when she learns to turn on the child-lock on the washing machine after you have loaded it so that “Daddy won’t walk past and turn it off before it is clean”.  (Jon has form for seeing the light on, thinking it has finished, wanting to save electricity and turning it off mid-cycle. I have form for complaining about him doing this).

Law school does not improve common sense. One of my friends (with a law degree) came round today in a panic over her laptop which was “broken”.  After a 12- second assessment I was able to diagnose that it had the NUMBER LOCK on…

If you steal a pair of your husband’s light-coloured smart socks and then wear them with leaky wellies whilst emptying barrows on to a muckheap in the middle of a muddy field, it is probably wise to take the socks off and hide them before he comes in.

You know when your children are approaching teenagerdom, when you overhear them “Blasting” each other with the Harry Potter-style spells: “Fat-i-fy” and “Gay-i-fy”.

Although the “pushing and running as hard as you can” method is a highly effective way of getting a loaded wheelbarrow through deep mud, it vastly increases the probability of a welly coming off in a speed-mud-vacuum.

If you are loading a reluctant horse and are out of horse food, Morrison’s own-brand crunchy nut corn flakes make a suitable substitute.

Next time I remove a two-year-old filly’s ripped rug in the morning and think to myself “I’ll put another one on later” and if “later” actually translates into “when it is pitch black, cold, muddy and I am dressed in lycra with jelly legs after a 50-mile bike ride because I was too damn lazy to do it earlier” then I should remember next time that this is a false economy and it takes six times  longer in the dark and is at least ten times as unpleasant.

Troll (3) is not shy. I have just watched her fetch her red singing potty, park it in the middle of the living room, drop her tights and sit on it. This was in front of her friends and mine at her birthday party and let’s just says she made full use of the potty…

Rugging up a herd of breeding mares and youngstock has definite parallels to competing in a triathlon. This morning I have spent ages sorting out equipment of various shapes and sizes, carried heaped piles of equipment to various locations, got soaked to the skin,  had to take on and off several pieces of equipment as quickly as possible and run four times around a large field whilst gasping for breath. I think I prefer triathlon…

Maximum heart rate tests hurt… a lot.

Wind-up torches in “dens” sound like a good method of toddler amusement but require at least 20 minutes of mummy’s best den-building and torch-finding time. In reality they keep toddlers entertained for approximately 45 seconds.

The opposite of burning tea is called “turning on the oven then forgetting to put the food in”.  This is probably more annoying than burning it.

Taking hound-child pictures of the day to upload to Facebook is all good fun but makes your morning harder, delays mucking out and generally adds to the child-hound-horse chaos in your home, especially when, as a consequence, your eight-year-old misses her school bus and you end up having to drive her to school in your mucking out clothes.

Small children can ski black runs without panicking if they are told that they are “dark blue”.

Things that two year olds who are just getting the hang of sentences should refrain from saying to their mothers when they require carrying:- “Up, up, up – stupid”.

The next time I give my husband the simple task of “turning on the vegetables on the hob whilst I’m outside haying the horses”, I will be sure to leave printed instructions explaining how to “turn the oven on at the wall”.

When getting your husband and big sister to spend ten minutes trying their hardest to fasten you into your Woof-wear metal “cage” body protector, it is probably advisable to make sufficient prior checks to ensure that it is not on backwards. If you do not do this and they suceed in their task you will be 1) very uncomfortable 2) subjected to serious derision.

Littlest Petshop figures bloody hurt when you stand on them in bare feet.

Trifle the cat does not like granny’s turkey gravy even when the dog has stolen her food for the last 24 hours and she is starving.

Slugs are very difficult to remove from tissue paper and slug-slime is very difficult to remove from fingers that have been attempting to remove slugs from tissue paper.

There is a positive correlation between the number of cups of coffee and kisses given to husband and the amount of loaded barrows of horse-poo husband empties onto the (distant) muckheap.

Once dried, Stella Artois makes a very substitute for hair gel.

Nasty Asti gets progressively less nasty after each glass and, providing the first glass is consumed after several none-Asti alcoholic drinks, is almost drinkable.

Using the fail-barrow because you are too lazy to go and find the good barrow is a false economy when mucking out nine stables. Failure to act on this obvious truth is likely to result in a minimum of six accidental mid-yard poo-tips.

It takes an average of seven large bounces to propel one prone toddler from one side of the trampoline to the other whilst you are on all fours in your pyjamas with a four-year-old riding on your back. Doing this at 2pm scores about eight out of ten on the embarrassment scale when  you look up to see the postman watching you with a signature-required parcel in his hand.

There is a positive correlation between the amount of hoof trimmings consumed by a basset hound and the amount of methane expelled into the living room that evening.

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Why I wouldn’t swap my husband for Brad Pitt

Women often joke that they would swap their husbands/partners for their favourite movie star given half the chance. I’ve got to admit that at times, if I could click my fingers and instantaneously replace Jon for a less complaining model, I’d be tempted, particularly if a) Jon was, at that exact moment, moaning about the piles of paperwork in the kitchen b)I could be certain that the man I’d get in return was Brad Pitt.

I think that after the initial novelty (of Brad vacuuming topless) wore off, I’d be trawling the internet trying to find Jon again. This may coincide with me not being able to start my dumper truck or needing to deliver a foal to Newcastle but these things would merely be a catalyst to something that I know I would do anyway, eventually.

After all, I live in the UK where it is only warm enough for semi naked vacuuming three weeks of the year.  I like Jon’s rough ‘n’ ready mad professor in D.I.Y. clothes look – and am treated to it at least 300 days a year  – so it just comes down to simple maths – three weeks are not enough to justify a swap in my opinion.

I’ve come up with a few other reasons too, which I’ve listed below to stop me texting Brad, the next time Jon annoys me.

Brad looks hot in Levis but would he actually be any good with a Paslode first fix nail gun, a bucket of cement or a tile-cutting machine? Does he have any stable building experience?

Brad Pitt wouldn’t want to go swimming in Newark on a Monday evening and if he did, it would cause mass subscription in the weight-watchers water spinning class which occurs on the same night and it would be more difficult to park.

Brad is used to Angelina’s dress sense, It is unlikely that either my old horse-poo -coated clothing or lycra triathlon gear would do it for him.

Brad almost certainly is accustomed to five star hotels and Michelin three-star restaurants; he wouldn’t appreciate my hobbit-hole cottage or understand my smoke-alarm dinner gong.

Jon cannot operate a washing machine or oven, he’d probably die without me and a)I’d never want that to happen and b)I wouldn’t want Brad to have that on his conscience.

Jon has been extensively trained in the art of back tickling (and other similar activities). It’d take at least 7 years to train Brad up to a similar standard and he may never be as good as Jon even with all that training.

Brad may well have a similar amount of kids to us but he has never encountered a Troll. She’d send him running back to the Hollywood Hills in no time.

It is highly unlikely that Brad would want to go on £99 ski holidays and even if I were married to a multi-zillionaire, there would be no way I’d ever pay over-the-odds for something if I could find  it cheaper with a bit of internet searching at the last minute.

Jon is getting a bit deaf in his old age (although I suspect he only needs his ears syringing) – this is useful when all five children are singing Gangnam style during supper. Brad, with good hearing, would never cope.

At least I know what the triggers are for Jon’s whinging (piles of papers in random places, dog poo on lawn, dirty washing thrown in a pile on kitchen floor, baling twine-trip hazards on horse yard). Only Angelina knows Brad’s triggers and what if he turned out to have more than Jon does?

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Filed under celebrities, comedy, Family, family, funny, grumpy husbands, Hollywood, humour, large families, married life

Things that are more important than “doing my accounts”

I have not blogged for 4 days. This is because my husband has been whinging about me blogging instead of doing my accounts. At the moment he is safely within the boundaries of Newark Rugby club, so I thought I’d make the most of my spare time.

Now I know that my accounts are important but I collected and recorded all my receipts ages ago, it’s only a matter of adding it all up…it’ll only take five minutes…surely. The problem is, I can think of plenty more exciting ways to spend five minutes.

Five minute social networking breaks.  When you are surrounded by squealing children and have spent four hours in sub-zero temperatures dealing with foals with ice-induced cabin fever, then a few five minute breaks in the cosy virtual reality of cyber space are important for maintaining my sanity. You can’t do accounts when you are stark raving mad, can you?

Five minute coffee breaks. Everyone in the world has a coffee each time they a)come in from outside b)get off the sofa c)walk past the kettle on the way back from the toilet, this is a fact and is not interchangeable with doing accounts.

Several consecutive five minute exercise bike breaks (usually totalling 45 minutes). Justification – it is far too icy outside, I may fall off my road bike and then be squashed by a truck – If that happened then I’d never be able to do the accounts, would I?

Five minute Hound-stroking breaks. My hound could get depressed if I suddenly stopped doing this, she may think she’d done something wrong, hence importance of maintaining consistency.

Five minute attempts at beating my record on Word Mole. Word Mole, if played enough, must help to increase my vocabulary, which will subsequently increase the quality of adverts which I put out to sell my foals. Everyone knows that selling is the most important part of any business and if you don’t sell things the accounts look far worse at the end of the year.

Five minute fake tanning break. I like my body more when it is brown (except for that time when I let Violet do a spray tan for me, I wasn’t too keen on the tiger look). Anyway, tanning makes me happier and if I am happier I am far more likely to do my accounts, so tanning is working towards the accounts goal.

Five minute craft session with children breaks.  Children need to be allowed to express themselves through creative means – otherwise they have too much energy come bedtime and won’t go to sleep, leaving no “grown-up time” for you to do things such as accounts.  Arty projects in the past have included four foot long paper-mache dragon toy boxes, Fimo clay animals, giant black witches cats, stone/hazelnut painting, large tree pictures made with fallen leaves and  “Hound-Child pictures of the day” (which can often been seen on Facebook).

Five minute power naps. It is common knowledge that the human brain does not function to the best of its ability if its owner has not had enough sleep. For this reason accounts should always come AFTER power naps on a to-do list.

Five minute Christmas shopping on eBay break. Time and money-saving  – it’d take a full day of my time to go shopping in town, I’d have to fill the car up with petrol and would probably buy loads of unessential items that I wouldn’t  come across online. Also December the 25th is BEFORE the accounts deadline on my calendar.

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Filed under comedy, digital marketing, disorder, Family, funny, grumpy husbands, humour, large families, running a business, self-help

Reasons to be happy about being 36

It is my birthday this week and I will be 36 and, as Shania Twain once said: “that don’t impress me much”.

However, to cheer myself up, I have been trying to come up with a few reasons why 36 is better than 26.

 Things I used to do in my 20s that I can’t (or wouldn’t want to) do now

1) Go out on the town in winter wearing only a mini dress and no coat.

(I might still be seen out on the town in a mini dress but Jon would never, ever let me out the front door without a cardigan AND coat.)

2) Ride lunatic horses – bucking broncos, stroppy donkeys and even the odd surprised cow, I have ridden them all.

(Not any more. Was I braver back then or have I just developed some common sense?   Maybe falling off just hurts more when you are older – or perhaps it’s that missing disc in my spine?)

3) My uni friends and I used to buy vodka, wine, whiskey, hooch, lager and many other ethanol-based liquids, tip them into a giant dustbin and add coke or orange juice to make what we called “carbuncle juice”. Strangely, we didn’t use this mixture to strip wallpaper but, instead, we drank it.

(I cannot explain or understand why I ever did this but maybe hangovers hurt less ten years ago.)

4) We would also all go night-clubbing dressed as described in point one and stay out until 6am.

(Sundays are better when you have had at least six hours sleep.)

5) Put both ankles behind my head at the same time as a party trick.

I can no longer do this due to a stiff back. However, why would I want to? Fortunately, I am still quite flexible and can still perform useful tasks like biting my own toe nails. Jon wishes it was the other way round.

6) Tolerate grumpy husbands.

I used to put up with high levels of grumpy man syndrome when I was married to husband number one. This didn’t help our marriage in the long run and only encouraged him to become progressively grumpier. Unfortunately for upgrade husband, I learnt from my mistakes and so I now maintain a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to grumpiness. Of course, this does not stop me getting a grumpy husband occasionally but he knows I won’t talk to him until he has cheered up. The alternative way of looking at this, as put forward by Jon, is that I have become a grumpy old cow in my old age.

Things I do at 36 that I could/would not do in my 20s

1) Run a marathon, race in a triathlon, swim front crawl  – although I ran the occasional 10k when I was younger, I would have much rather gone out on a Saturday night drinking than have to stay in and drink tea because I had a race in the morning. Plus, young women are such wimps aren’t they?

2) Wear shorts. All that running and swimming has made my bum smaller.

3) Multi-tasking. Like most mothers, I am well practised at simultaneously cooking, answering the phone, bouncing a toddler on my hip and constructing a Playdough and tinfoil T-Rex. Before having children, multi-tasking meant downing two shots of two different spirits at the same time.

4) Don’t have an overdraft. When I was in my 20’s my overdraft was an essential part of my life.  I have got better with money (I think only one horse buying error this year is an improvement, don’t you?).  Upgrading husbands has obviously helped matters significantly.

5) I can now walk well in high heels……..ok, that was a lie – I still walk like John Wayne after 48 hours in the saddle.

6) Go out the house without makeup. Makeup? Seriously? Strictly for going out  or special occasions – only because I can’t be bothered and, besides, you look stupid all done up when you are covered in horse poo don’t you?

 

 

 

 

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Filed under birthdays, Family, funny, getting older, grumpy husbands, happy birthday, humour, large families, nearly forty, self-help, thirties

Supergran!

Grannies are one of nature’s mysteries. No matter what kind of personality they started off with in earlier life, be it stressy, bossy or timid – they undergo slow and subtle changes as they get older and by the time they hit 75 they have evolved into calm, wise and quietly spoken authorities, who can steam 7 different varieties of vegetable in one pan and make gravy out of the water.

Oh yes, I am speaking from experience.  The granny I am talking about lives next door to us and is my husband’s mum, my mother-in-law and she is amazing.

She is the grand age of 84 and although her knees are not what they used to be, she is as spritely in the brain department as a box full of sprites. She has this wonderful technique of getting any child to do whatever she wants them to do, without them realising that it wasn’t their own idea in the first place. That’s probably the school teacher in her coming out.  She is an expert in distraction and interrogation and employs both skills with the controlled precision of a Stealth fighter pilot.

If I walked in to a room full of arguing, shouting children my immediate response would be to shout something at the top of my voice (possibly something not repeatable on here!). This would probably make no difference to the situation whatsoever and as well as having to repeat myself several times, I’d probably end up having to physically carry at least two children out of the room to separate them.

Granny could walk into the exact same scenario and give them “the stare” which would probably stop 90% of all bad behaviour within seconds. She would then follow up the stare with the short phrase “My word!” spoken in a very quiet, calm voice but with the smallest hint of a growl on the r of word. On hearing “my word!” all children would turn into angels, instantly.

Granny has been a God-send to us with regards to childcare. She adores all the children but is undoubtedly closest to Violet (5).Violet and Granny are best friends, there has only been about two days in Violet’s life that she has not spent time hanging out with Granny.

They play all sorts of strange games together, including Violet tying Granny up with scarves, sellotaping her hands together and then holding a smelly slipper in front of her face like a gas-mask, forcing her to breathe through it – this is Violet’s all time favourite game (although I’m not sure that it is Granny’s!).

Granny also endures hours of “Hide and seek” where Violet is surprisingly content for Granny not to get up (because of her knees) but to simply hide behind a few cushions in-situ. Sometimes it takes Violet ages to find her.

Violet, having spent so much time in Granny’s company, has picked up quite an extensive old lady vocabulary. She regularly uses the colours “beige” and “mauve” and has been known to test her bath water “with me elbow”. She can also tell you the name of every variety of flower that you are likely to encounter in a country garden, its colour and its Old English nickname.

Our Granny is punctual to within an eighth of a second. I am rather confused about how she managed to create Jon, who does not reflect even one sequin’s sparkle of this trait. This fact is probably the only thing in the world that winds Granny up and this is a credit to her, as I’m sure we all give her enough reasons to legitimately be in an asylum.

Can other people’s Grannies use the telephone? The phone is not our Granny’s forte in life. She is perfectly able to dial the right number and make a successful connection but when it comes to having a two way exchange of words, she seems to have some kind of mental block. Jon and I think it is because as soon as the other person answers, she is trying to keep tally of exactly how much the call is going to cost her, inside her head. If you happen to catch her on a really good day, you might get three sentences out of her before she abruptly hangs up, whilst you are in mid-sentence.

What she fails to realize is that the fact we have to call her back to finish the conversation, probably incurs a connection charge, making the whole process more expensive than if she’d just stayed on the line to start with. Saying that, other than the telephone thing, I really do not have a bad word to say about Granny, she is the best mum in law in the world.

I am however interested to find out just how unique our Granny is, compared to other people’s Grannies? How many other  84 year old Grannies would climb a ladder to apply filler to a ceiling or help take measurements for stable building, mix cement or babysit five children, so that her son and his wife can fit in a swim session at 9pm on an evening? Or more to the point look after a three year old troll-child for two hours every morning, whilst mum does horse jobs?

I really hope you all have Super-Grans too but I think that our granny will take some beating.

 

 

 

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Filed under comedy, Family, funny, humour, large families, mother in laws

Santa Baby

Dear Santa…

What I really want for Christmas is a top- of- the- range, carbon-framed, Specialized time-trial bike in purple and white with some jazzy Zipp 404 wheels and a pair of PRO Missile Evo aero bars.

However, unless someone wants to buy several fantastic, talented and very well-bred horses before Christmas Eve, I know that is unlikely to happen.

So, just in case there are not enough people in horse-buying mood, I thought I’d compile a Christmas wish-list, from which you can take your pick…I hope that’s ok?

1) I’d really love a volume switch and, in particular, a mute button for all five children and Jonathan – preferably one  that can be operated by a remote control that only I can see and never gets lost.

2) Would it be possible to reconfigure Marigold’s three-year-old brain so that she no longer thinks it is grown up or fun to try to tip the contents of her potty down the toilet herself? Oh, and while on the subject, how about persuading her that it is fine to do number twos on her special seat in the bathroom so that she no longer feels the need to carry her potty into the living room (especially when we are having dinner or entertaining company or both)?

3) A gadget (more advanced than an elastic band or hair-bobble) to stop Annie hound’s ears dangling in her food. Wet dog-food ears are a) not a great look b) feel really icky when they brush up against your bare legs c) smell atrocious when they dry-off.

4) Does it need to be so dark at 4pm in the winter? Couldn’t you have a word with someone? It’d make evening stables just so much more pleasant.

5) I have a grey/white hair that keeps growing in the middle of my right eyebrow – plucking it out requires that I consciously acknowledge that it is there. Please make it go away for good?

6) I’ve lost about 7Ibs recently but plan to lose a few more in the hope that this will make me run faster. I don’t need any help with the weight-loss, thanks, but if you could stop my boobs disappearing completely, that’d be superb.

7) If you know anyone high up in the fashion industry, I’d really like next year’s must-have look to include odd socks, unbrushed hair, army trousers covered with horse poo, layers of lycra cycling tops, well-worn fleeces and Hunters.

8) Do you know any Super Heroes? I think I may have positioned my latest muckheap a bit too near to Granny’s garden – it’d probably only take a dozen or so good strong heroes a few weeks to move if they used their super powers wisely.

9) Just one recipe, excluding ice cream that everybody in our household likes and will eat, no ifs or buts.

10) A Range Rover, or any car really that has not been driven on at least four different occasions into two different gates.

11) To be able to have a long, hot, entirely uninterrupted bath in my own house, without having anyone bash relentlessly on the door screaming, come in for a poo, or march in already stripped naked and climb uninvited into my bath. This includes Annie Hound – who only last week sauntered into the bathroom whilst I was bathing and starting lapping out of my fresh cup of coffee which was perched on the side of the bath.

12) Smooth, soft hands with neatly manicured office-job finger nails – as opposed to weather-beaten, dirt-ingrained, haylage-cracked, broken-nail horse hands.

I think that probably covers it. If I think of anything else in the meantime, I’ll email you. Merry Christmas, Lucy x

P.s.  I’ve been a really good girl all year, I promise!

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Filed under christmas, disorder, Family, humour, large families