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350 mile round trip

And with stops to drop off people and pick up same and delays due to road accidents we were in the car on and off for nine hours yesterday.

I don’t mind travelling, but it takes it out of me these days.

The net result was a fistful of medals and a trophy, but the real diva in this family was distinctly unimpressed: repeatedly placed but no wins.  The trophy for third in the premiership dance category was dismissed, mainly due to it being an eighth of the size of the last one she hooked,

I tell her – this is character-building.  A chance to develop your grittier side.  Take the feedback and come back at it again harder.

After nine hours car, and £100 lighter in the pocket (petrol and competition entry fees) there is a large part of me that thinks – I could buy you ten trophies for less…

I repeat my own mantra to myself: this is character-building.  A chance to develop your grittier side.  Take the feedback and come back at it again harder.

In the meantime, whilst we a building more character, we are also trying to save a pigeon the dog found in the woods this afternoon.  I don’t know what the matter with it is, there are no obvious injuries but it was immobilised and unsteady on its feet.  After the near-miss with the cat on Friday afternoon, the dog gets major kudos for leaving the poor injured thing alone.  I wonder if he knows what I hope he doesn’t – that all our efforts with warm glucose possets are in vain and it will die in the night anyway.

We will see.  It’s out of the way on top of the wardrobe in the cat carrier in a nest of shredded newspaper.  The Daily Express to be precise.  I never buy that paper, but last week I did.  I won’t be bothering again, although I did enjoy reading the cruise supplement.  Perhaps I’ll take the pigeon on a round the world job, if it makes it…

The video link is for daughter #2 really.  Still, it’s never too late for any of us to don a curly hairpiece and and bespangled short dress with poodle socks.  Is it?

 

From the album ‘Playing With Fire’ by Dervish

When this album came out in the mid-1990s I lived with my sister, Finky Wink, in Clapton. One November we had a mad party and in the small hours we switched from playing dance music from the charts to some tracks on this album ~ everyone dancing to the Irish folk music was one of the best times I can remember in my life, it was just joyful.

This is a sad song, a warning to women. We didn’t dance to this one.

The following day I had the worst hangover of my life (tequila).

And the moral of this post is? Well, aside from the song’s sad but true sentiment: don’t eat the damn worm.

It’s a new record!

Of backing and forthing to the school in one day. Six visits – that’s twelve to and fros in a day.

07.50 Go to school
08.00 Return
15.10 Go to school
15.15 Return
15.55 Go to school
16.00 Return
16.50 Go to school
17.00 Return

This is where we are now. The dog has been with me on three out of the four occasions and is now refusing to leave the house again today. Unbelievably, I still have to:~

17.50 Go to school
18.00 Return
18.50 Go to school
19.00 Return

I have written this post mainly as an aide memoire to myself. I am so dizzy I am worried I might forget one leg of the marathon relay race thingummyjigummy and end up:~

leaving a child at school overnight
leaving both children at school overnight
leaving myself at school overnight

What’s to blame for all the trips? Irish Dancing. And when St Patrick Day finally comes around next month I will have more than earned my Guiness.