Yes, the sign's up! After 12 hours of decluttering and cleaning for the estate agent's photos last Thursday the house is finally on the market. Lurch is none too pleased - he'd rather stay here in splendid rural isolation but he's outvoted big time on this one - 3 to 1, in fact. He began his counter attack stealth campaign immediately by lighting a cigar and tossing down a large Scotch, that cheered him up and stank the house out.
Danny Boy has been invited to a girl's party on Friday night - he is very worried about it and says that he doesn't want anybody to rape him or make him drink alcohol. I assured him that his fears were groundless but he had heard on the school vine that Georgia Braithwaite's dad had bought some cans of shandy already. I told him that he could phone me immediately if things got hairy and I would collect him but that he should go. He's finding out more details today... his genepool mix is a strange, bewildering thing.
The Terminator has got his last optional SAT's exam today - I reminded him that 'first past the post' was NOT a measure of success after his teacher told him off for finishing in half the allocated time on Monday, he said 'I was still first, whatever.'
I shouldn't really be writing this blog, as if I haven't got enough to do what with cleaning, tidying and deodorising. My cup cake empire is still top of mind but hasn't got past the design stage yet, like so many of my wealth creation schemes. I must try to be more dynamic and driven and less daydreamy.