I went away for the weekend. Yes I did. This “away-weekend” had been planned months ago. Some friends and I were going off-grid for twenty four hours, to eat crisps and cheese, drink wine and cover genital-shaped stones in multi-coloured felt. As you do. The resort of choice was to Read more
Little Seymour Number Two exited our makeshift bathroom yesterday evening whilst brushing her teeth, holding aloft a tampon. “What’s this?” she queried, fully expecting me to tell her that it is some kind of compressed, expandable flannel, or a lipstick applicator, or perhaps even a bullet. I took a breath. Read more
Last weekend, Big Seymour spent hours hunched on his haunches, studying grooves in large prefabricated slabs, muttering as he went. He was trying to get his head around the ancient technology that is UNDER FLOOR HEATING. Yes, as he quite rightly pointed out, the Romans themselves enjoyed the luxury of Read more
I have turned into a dirty rotten liar. I am ashamed to say it, but it’s true. I am about to confess all, and I must remember that, whilst this post won’t be read by many, it will be read. And there will be no going back. Yikes. I like Read more
Last week, Little Seymour Number Two had to ask her teacher if she could put on her P.E. trainers in class, as her shoes were letting in water. Mortifying. On Wednesday, one of Number One’s friends pointed out that her school shirt was grey. How embarrassing! Every morning recently, Boy Read more
January is a great time to have a sort-out, and re-assess one’s stuff. I seem to be struggling to get going with the concept; looking around at The Shed, you’d think I never throw anything away. Boy Seymour has no such qualms. At precisely two minutes past eight this morning, Read more
I have decided, as it’s 2019, that I must modernise. And so, I will draw The Four Little Seymours in colour from here on in. Revolutionary, I know. This is largely based upon a small fascination I have developed with the wonderful, inimitable Raymond Briggs. I always knew he was Read more
Good morrow from the new year! And here we are, out the other side of Excessmas, getting ready for The Final Push. Ooooh, that sounds ominous. And optimistic. And delusional. And rather finite, too. There is a tentative plan brewing, that we might, just possibly be – dare I type Read more
Oh my goodness. It seems like only yesterday that Big Seymour and I were Celotexing in Number One’s embryonic bedroom a year ago. Back then, the air was thick with choke-inducing, man-made dust and our breath was visible in amongst it. And now? We are still in The Shed. The Read more
On Friday, The Four Little Seymours had a day trip. We went to London – that legendary place where the streets are made of gold, where the BFG lurks in the Queen’s garden and where everything is posh, stylish and smells of Molton Brown. (Or is it Aesop these days..?) Read more