New home

I had a peaceful day until Little miss bossy got home...

All was fine until she saw me with the Fasching catalogue. Fasching is another German word for Karneval, that brief period of the year when the locals in my neck of the woods feel legally obliged to go a little bit bonkers. Dressing up (as an animal/nurse/alien whatever tickles your fancy) is essential if you happen to be going to a Karneval party/dinner or parade, otherwise you will feel like an idiot, rather than looking like one...I have a Fasching catalogue because my neighbour (who takes Karneval really seriously - the planning of costumes starts months in advance, but this does also mean that if I have an invite to a party where fancy dress is required I know exactly who to ask) lent me hers last year - I needed accessories for my James Bond costume (don't ask) and now we have a birthday party coming up that requires costumes.

Little miss bossy assumed I was ordering Karneval outfits, so I told her that the British don't celebrate Karneval (just realised I missed my out...should have reminded her that Germans don't do Shrove Tuesday - she's demanding this year we do it 'properly', i.e. pancakes for breakfast, lunch & tea) it was like setting light to a firework, the rant went on and on and on and ended with me asking if she'd like for me to arrange for her to be adopted by a German family...

Some time later, when we'd made friends again & were both chatting to Mr K (1000's of miles away, well clear of any fallout) he said I should tell Little miss bossy that I was going to put her on eBay tonight & by breakfast she'd have a proper German family...fortunately she understands her father's warped sense of humour.