When our cats die, can we have a dog?

Apologies for the long post. Must, must find time to post less, more often.

Olivia seems to have been the focus of our weekend. She will always be our special little girl, but she can be enormously trying as she begins to grow up. I often wonder how she got to be so big. I can so clearly remember her as a baby that it sometimes seems like the beautiful five-year-old who lives with us can't be the same person.

Anyway, we don't seem to have stopped since about 5.30pm on Friday when we headed out to her school fete. It seemed like there was a three-line whip with the reception teachers who were all face painting (£1). This is Olivia with her teacher.

Anyway, from the fete we had go to straight to Luke's end of term party, the less said about that the better really, needless to say, it was some genius organisation to have it one the same day as the school fete.

The following day we headed to the church fete which was rather lovely. A proper old skool event with white elephant, coconut shy, Punch & Judy and so on. They had stocks and sponges too in which Caryn was subjected to a sustained, and I thought, quite vicious, attack from the little people.

It was held in the grounds of The Vicarage. Nice gaff. It's funny living somewhere like this - you can slowly but surely feel the church closing in on you. One day, we'll just find ourselves sat in church on Sunday and not really know why or how. That said, they were obviously responsible for the fantastic weather.

Today? Today I failed to fit a cat flap, but did get the grass cut and managed 10 minutes in the hammock. Didn't bother buying a paper.