The Bedside Crow

Anyway, here's a film of our daughter dancing in the rain to the sound of pork chops frying in butter and sage.

Willa dancing in the rain. from Jonathan Main on Vimeo.

Memo to self: Watch this one again in November

Am I having some chicken? from Jonathan Main on Vimeo.

Abroad is funny.

 

Hey Dad! I bought you a present. Eldest spent the weekend in Berlin.

Blackbird

Blackbird from Jonathan Main on Vimeo.

Dad, you are *so* OCD when you make sandwiches for us.

Said first-born this morning as I prepared her lunch.

No, it's not that, I told her, I just don't want four years at Art school to go completely to waste.

 

It's a bloody great life if you don't, etc, etc

So, eldest was last seen disappearing into the far distance bent double with the size of her rucksack full of nail varnish, hair-dryer and high-heeled flip-flops for a weekend of camping with The Duke of Edinburgh. Middle child is spending the day filming an 'educational video' and has been pacing the kitchen with a haughtiness normally associated with Julia Roberts. Meanwhile Fred has raised himself from his sickbed for a football match and if he can't 'skill-up' the opposition he might just throw up on them instead. Let's hope it doesn't go to extra time. Justine is teaching swimming before magically becoming Mrs Crow at the Market, and me, I can hear the call of 17 boxes of unpacked books.

Laters.

I am a top Mummy blogger.

No, really, I am. It says so here. And here.

[Insert gratuitous picture of youngest child posing with a piece of plastic shite given away free with the Beano.]

Anyway, and also, I don't think I've, as yet, directed you to this month's Families South East review by a real mummy blogger:

THE KIDS ARE growing up fast - not so, me though. I don't think I'll ever really feel old enough to be in charge of real life people. Which is just as well as the eldest has turned fifteen and when offered the chance to fill the house with teenagers for a mass sleepover to mark the birthday, she looked at me as if I'd told her I was secretly in love with her headteacher. "God no," she shuddered. I was astonished because crossing my fingers behind my back has never worked before.

Read the rest here.

Follow Justine on Twitter here. Go on, do it. Make her tweet!

Personally, I think that the one copy of Revolutionary Road is quite sufficient for any household.

 

Unless, of course, you wanted to give the half-price one as a housewarming present to that nice young couple who have just moved in next door.

 

Yesterday I made a pizza for each of my three children to take to school.

You know the sort of thing; freshly made dough allowed to sit in the fridge overnight, homemade tomato sauce, Tuscan olive oil, sun-dried olives, organic buffalo mozzarella and thinly sliced Wiltshire ham for the non-vegetarian boy, all dusted with generous sprinkling of oregano.

They loved it, but today the parents of their classmates are aiming to hunt me down and shoot me with a harpoon, or at the very least, paint a black cross on my forehead and drag me behind a horse to the outskirts of town.

Dear Justine, this blog's for you.

This is a picture of your Valentine's present, a copy of Burnt Weenie Sandwich by Frank Zappa. All things being equal had the 'online retailer' I ordered it from not interpreted 'express delivery' as arriving sometime between 20th to 24th February you might now be holding it in your hand (the cd, not the burnt weenie, obviously).

Anyway, it's the thought that counts, right?