Where are my wellies

So she came back from Morocco on Monday with a bag of dirty clothes and the smelliest feet I have ever come across! But hot water sorted out both.

She has a brilliant sense of achievement and wants to go again; she didn’t find the mountain too difficult but explained that if you climb too quickly you end up with altitude problems.

It is great to have her home, but then I had to go to London. She did ring me on Wednesday but only to ask when I was home, ah she misses me, no; she wanted to know when she had to tidy up by… Not sure why she bothered as when I got home Thursday evening the downstairs was well on its way to matching the upstairs, typical teenage tidiness. Still you have to love them.

She was back at work this week in the leisure centre, not very busy this week as they were filming The Cherrybomb there with Jimmy Nesbitt and Rupert Grint , Ron Weasley from Harry Potter. It actually turned her off any idea of a career in the movies as she found it incredibly boring going over and over the same scene all day.

Today was the start of the next trip she is going horse riding with the Royal Artillery, everything should have been fine we checked on all the kit when we were getting ready for the Morocco trip, so no last minute panics, of course not, ‘where are my wellies’ she shouts 10 minutes before she leaves. No joy, so she flew to Southampton and had to go to the shops before she caught the train. Oh the joys of parenthood…