It is the Last week of the summer holidays. I am gutted and excited all at the same time. Gutted, because the summer is over, another academic year is about to start, with all its hecticity (I made that one Read more
I tidied Mini Seymour’s bedroom the other day. I rearranged it, and put things in a kind of order. Despite the lack of carpet and the mish mash of furniture, it was an improvement. I was happy with my work. Read more
The Seymour Family is not musically gifted. So far, we have dabbled with the piano, the recorder and the ukulele. Boy showed a bit of promise for the guitar, but couldn’t be arsed to practise, at which point, I refused Read more
I am such a twunt. I have delusions of grandeur, and of a life one day treading the boards, living it up and being fabulous. Usually, after such delusions, I wake up. But on this occasion, my delusions took me Read more
It is Day Three of The Holidays and Boy Seymour has just called his sister a fucking idiot. I guess this is to be expected… the incessant sibling holiday agro. But I must admit to being slightly horrified at the Read more
It was bad enough when Number One went. But Little Seymour Number Two has now gone and got so old, she has had to leave her lovely little village church school and venture to the comp’ down the road, a Read more
Despite being a very busy person (as we have previously established), and a professional faffer, I am on the lookout for a suitable proper job. A job that might mean that I no longer have the luxury of time in Read more
I hate sandwiches. I absolutely do. And I can tell you when I started hating them – it was when I was twenty six years old. I moved out of home, and became responsible for making the sandwiches. Yes – Read more
I am a very busy person. I do not know what I actually achieve, and when I make statements like that, I feel the weight of a million condemning eyes on me, silently accusing me of HAVING NO JOB. But Read more
I can thoroughly recommend “Educated”. It might make you hanker after a Cambridge stint, and the ability to tell stories the way Tara Westover does, but it’ll certainly make you glad you’ve never had to operate heavy, sharp, deadly machinery supervised by a father whose idea of health and safety is trusting in angels.