Different Angle

I have been rushing around this week trying to sort out passports for the children amongst other things. Whilst at the post office yesterday the kind assistant advised me I needed some extra information.

My boy, who is on a complete charm offensive just now, is eager to please. I phone and he duly gets the information. As he reads it out I realise that I too need a new passport.

So there I am in the 'shoe' shop, getting my picture taken. He is no David Bailey and it was such a waste of a nice camera and 50mm lens. In my defence I would like to say that 10 years is a long time. Not only long, but it has been the hardest 10 years, bringing up babes, dealing with sick and elderly realtives, indulging in abusive behaviours - cakes, beer and the like. Those 10 years have not been good to me, that's all I'm saying. I did wonder if he could choose a different angle or if it really had to be right in my face. I suggested a soft focus - he was less than amused. Ah well, got to try.

I vowed that I will not eat for the next six months and will work my butt off at the allotment and pounding the streets. Ten minutes later I am in a shop buying us all a cake. It's fair to say that my stress levels are relatively high at the moment, and when this happens I turn to tourettes and cake to get me through.

Five minutes in the garden, the light on the flowers is stunning - I could continue to ponce here but I shall refrain. I can't blip them again though, there is a thing called too much. But I can't resist. So there I am, lying on my back in flower beds with my head resting on an upturned flower pot trying to get a different angle.

Now, where's the Sodding cake?