I don’t think Big Seymour has ever taken so long to finish a bathroom in his life. This is, in part, due to those twunting hexagonal tiles we chose, and which took him a million years to arrange, cut, stick and grout. Oh, and the grouting isn’t even finished yet. Read more
Hexagonal tiles… the idea is nice. But the reality is painful. Poor Big Seymour spent A WHOLE DAY at the weekend, cutting and placing sodding hexagonal tiles on a window surround. By the end of job, he was seeing six sides on everything and was in need of a holiday. Read more
I refuse to use the word can’t, and so, in the spirit of futile optimism, I am teaching myself the piano. This has come about since I had an out-of-body experience whilst watching the marvellous biopic, Bohemian Rhapsody, and I was transported back to 1985. I was a wide-eyed eight Read more
I have messed up. My executive decision making skill has proven to be non-existent. In the world of bathroom design, I am a right royal cock up. Our family bathroom has started to take shape. No longer is it a dumping ground for old photos, proliferating roller boots and dust. Read more
Yesterday, Little Seymour Number One went to work. She gleefully accepted the last-minute opportunity to go down to a local pub, and wash up for four hours. She came home with a fist full of notes, and collapsed in a heap on the table. Boy Seymour is lying to anyone Read more
Dear Number One, I would like to apologise to you. I have behaved badly, and, now that I have had time to think about it, I think I can put my apology down into words. Here goes… You are fifteen. You are the one who should be wracked with insecurities. Read more
Why? Just why? What am I doing? I am way out of my depth, and fast losing control of what I thought might be a nice little hobby. Yes, dear readers, The Four Little Seymours’ mummy is now a fully paid-up member of Henfield Amateur Dramatic Society, and is committed Read more
Boy Seymour is a git and a twunt and a maniac. He’s annoying and puerile and totally f@cking infuriating. He shouts and rants and raves. He throws stuff. He fibs. That is on a bad day. On a good day, however, Boy Seymour is charming and helpful. He is courteous Read more
Poor Little Seymour Number Two. Yes, she’s Number Two, so … The only piece of brand new school uniform she’s had this year, as she ventures off into the world of secondary school, is a pleated skirt, of vaguely the right colour, purchased from a cheap online auction site, and Read more
The Buggers have returneth to ye old place of education, the place from which both dreams and nightmares are born and where you will, whether you like it or not, have “the best years of your life!”. (Probably – let’s face it – simply because school-goers are too young to Read more