A Secure Home

I nearly called this post 'The Healing Power of Laughter'. Emily, Sam and I have just laughed until we cried and it has made me feel so much better!
But to start at the beginning.
Emily (with new purple hair) is back for the weekend from university to celebrate her forthcoming 21st Birthday

I have been battling with the most revolting fluey cold and Emily caught it too. Sam was away working at his Saturday job and so feeling rather horrid,  Emily and I decided to take to our beds.
I awoke to the sound of the kitchen door opening and called out ' Hi Sam'. When he came upstairs to my bedroom, he was doubled up laughing. Emily came down and then Sam explained what had happened...
( Emily and I made him show us what he'd done and I took photographs)
On arriving home he realised he had forgotten to put the spare key back in it's hiding place and despite ringing and calling out got no reply. The house was in darkness so he assumed we'd gone out and he was locked out. After 20 chilly minutes waiting outside for us to return he decided to be a little enterprising...

Firstly he tried to reach through the cat-flap to open the door-

Nearly there but not quite.... so he tried something else...

Even his trusty cricket bat couldn't help!
He was getting desperate now so this was his last and equally unsuccesful attempt-

By now Emily and I were crying with laughter.
Can you imagine the shock I would have had if I'd tottered downstairs all weak and light-headed and seen THAT coming through the cat-flap? A true " Honey I'm Home" moment!

Sam was not daunted. He is made of sterner mettle and extremely bendy and skinny, so-

He decided to climb through the tiny kitchen window, first prising it open with a pair of garden shears.

Because he is a good boy, he spent some time leaning in and moving everything he could from the window ledge and surrounding area, so nothing would get broken- I've brought up my house-breaking boy well!

You see, it's easy when you know how!

What made him laugh was the irony of him opening the back door to pick up his bag and coat left outside and on slamming it shut, hearing a weak voice from upstairs saying   " Hi Sam, you're back late" and realising that I'd been at home all the time.

The morals of this tale are
1) Make sure you close every window ( however small) properly
2) Listen to your Mother when she tells you to return the spare key to its proper place
3) If feeling ill and sorry for yourself, get your son to break into your house and you will be much cheered up

Love not numbers

In honour of St Valentine's Day I'm posting a poem.
It's a bit of nonsense and a little risque' so if you are of a delicate disposition, please read no further...
It's sub-title is ' There's no accounting for taste' or ' The accountant's girlfriend' and it is for anybody who's partner is more keen on talking about their work, than whispering sweet nothings.

Love not Numbers



I'm in love with the lines at the edge of your eyes

and I lust at the feel of your bum.

So I suppose it might come as a slight surprise

(despite sexy thighs) that I sometimes feel glum

when your lips talk of numbers. It's such a waste

But there's no accounting for taste

I can cope with you doing a masters degree

with your exhaustion and cumulative stress

I'm quite supportive, as I'm sure you agree

when with housewifely glee, I come and clean up your mess.

I'll wear silk stockings, be the keenest of cooks

But don't talk of balancing the books.

In bed you are all that I've ever desired

playful, passionate, masterful or gentle.

Your slightest touch sometimes gets me all fired

so I'm inspired to be wicked and experimental

But one thing dear is elementary

Don't even mention 'double entry'...

I enjoy playing with rhyming schemes, so had great fun trying to fit in the double rhyme at the beginning of each forth line and I could never resist a truly dreadful pun.

May you all have a more tasteful and much more Romantic Valentine's day!