The answers to all your prayers.

Or in Locket's case - question -'What do I look like?' Well, only if you promise not to shatter my illusions that I really am a size 10, willowy blonde with size five feet, I shall show you my picture.

Bear in mind that on hand and bended knee I have trawled the Trash Towers photo archive, dust billowing behind me and this is the best I can come up with. CK did suggest that the most recent ones of me would be okay, I vetoed this on the grounds that a working terence and I were dressing up and pulling faces for the camera.

Babyman took this about four years ago one November when we were dressing up after Halloween.

This was just before he took the pic above.

He thought this was the best game EVER! Running around in circles 'sitting' on a broomstick dressed as a witch! I do have video but for some strange reason it won't upload. CK suggested this pose for the camera is genetically biased. Why? Have I never told you the story? Oooo! Go and make yourself a cup of tea then come back and sit on a comfy chair.

Back in the olden days when we went to Ireland last October with my mother we visited my lovely uncle-on-the-farm. We met up with them at a pub in Drogheda and during the meal we nearly drowned my poor lubbard uncle.

When I say 'we' I mean Princess C-Dub. Sitting at the table, chatting and supping drinks, waiting for our food when suddenly she said 'Daddy says Granma is a witch.' I swear Jack's Guinness went three different ways at once! With me sitting opposite him and my mother just the other side of him he rooly trooly did not know were to look. Eventually I stopped laughing and waved away the paramedics. Nice chaps they were too. I had to explain to my mother quite why her brother-in-law had gone a very different colour and was wiping Guinness froth from his ear. Eventually she stopped laughing too.


You see CK and Sylv have this relationship where by he is incredibly rude to her and she thinks him quite funny. Among others there has been an ongoing joke about sudden shooting muscle pains and my mother stabbing a CK shaped voodoo doll. This reached its apotheosis when walking across the living room one day Pr C-Dub suddenly clutched her calf, squealed and said 'Ouch!Granma is awake!'


A few years back (good grief! five years ago!!) I told CK her flight was leaving Australia on October 31. He did wonder if she was flying herself whether the skies would be especially crowded or whether she was going with Broomstick Air. Honestly! He is such a cheeky beggar.


It has now reached a point where she threatens him (via me during a phonecall I might add!) with the doll if he is, to her mind, not behaving. This usually entails not agreeing with her that we should move immediately back to Australia! Actually not agreeing with her about anything will do it.


My favourite from her last visit was him offering to upgrade her to a Nimbus 2000 AND build a landing pad in the front garden!

He wants to watch out, she'll turn him into a frog one of these days!