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I write these words to remember the moments most dear. These are the Tales Of My Boys. Do you fart your bum at us, sir? I do fart my bum, sir. Do you fart your bum at us, sir? Is the law of our side, if I say ay? No. No, sir, I do not . . . → Click to continue Reading: Fresh from the Changing Mat I write these words to remember the moments most dear. These are the Tales Of My Boys. “Time to get up!” Weary eyes open. I hear groans from the far side of the bed and the stirrings of Fraser in the cot beside me. The clock says it’s past nine so I can’t complain too . . . → Click to continue Reading: Where Are The Christmas Photos? I write these words to remember the moments most dear. These are the Tales Of My Boys.
I write these words to remember the moments most dear. These are the Tales Of My Boys. Fraser is 10 weeks old today and it’s been a whirlwind. So many stories to tell as and when I can write them down. Expect to see some long and some short, not necessarily in order but all . . . → Click to continue Reading: Once Upon A Time, Fraser Was Born  |
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I sit down on the bed. The mattress in so thin my arse goes numb almost immediately and my back twinges in protest. After what seems like an eternity of 
