Apparently it's Mothering Sunday, so I've been round to the old gals for a bit of mothering but she was out, probably round at one me brothers or sisters giving them the mothering which is rightfully mine, me being the eldest and all. Anyway that's that for another year so we can talk about the weather.
The weather's been about six weeks in front of itself temperature-wise and yes global bloody capitalists I still blame you. A nice drop of rain is what we need now so if we're all very good and behave ourselves and try to think about something else then maybe it'll happen. Not that that ever works but you never know your luck.
It between not getting mothered I've been tarting up the old greenhouse and the coldframes, giving them a bit of mothering. Washing the glass and replacing the odd screw here and clip there. Not that I ever get any thanks.
I was going to do some sowing but now I'm putting it off till next weekend after reading an article telling me how the new moon in Aries will then be shining down benignly, no doubt in a mothering type of manner, and that'll be the ideal time according to this bloke here and who am I to argue. It's not like I write for the newspapers or anything. I wonder how he get's on with his mother. I bet she's well proud of him and goes round telling the neighbours what a bright boy he is writing for the newspapers and when he goes round she's always there with no end of mothering for him. What a gip.
3 comments:
My mother doesn't get a card because I never got any Easter eggs.
Blimey, Sock mothers must be the worst. It's a cruel world and no mistake.
Now stop your mithering and get to bed. Is it Easter eggs you're wanting now is it? In pretty wrapping paper with a bow around it I shouldn't wonder. Is it millionaires we are now? And are there five pound notes falling from Heaven above for the buying of Easter eggs in pretty wrapping paper with bows around them? I think not. I think you'd better think on young Sock, there are little children in Africa with not even a crust of bread for to fill their bellies, never mind Easter eggs in pretty wrapping paper and bows around them. Now off to bed with you this instant and when you say your prayers you mind it's for them little children in Africa and not for Easter eggs, pretty wrapping paper and bows or not.
Actually all I wanted was a Cadbury's creme egg...
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