I'm outraged. Outraged I tell ya! Outraged by the amount of mock outrage there is on social media. It's nothing short of, well, outrageous.
What ever happened to being a little annoyed? A tad miffed? Moderately irked?
I might be wrong but I'm pretty sure this level of mock outrage is a modern phenomenon. It wasn't always such.
How to Survive the Apocalypse
Seeking Sanctuary on the Toilet
It Started with a Dab
We talk about religion quite a lot. Luca loves church buildings and mosques, Sonny is fascinated by the Hindu temple we occasionally drive past.
Despite being an Aetheist I like to think I treat them all equally and with the respect they deserve.
If someone asked me what my parenting style was my response would be,
“Why, what have they done?”
Apparently there are four. (1) Authoritarian, (2) Authoritative, (3) Permissive, and (4) Uninvolved.
(source: a half-read news article whilst having cushions thrown at my head, and a quick google search).
This doesn't help in narrowing it down for me.
I've invested heavily in the boys education. By invested I don't mean financially, obviously. There's no way they're going to a fee paying prep school so long as I'm still watching my football on a not-so-flat-screen TV. It's more of an emotional investment.
Prior to Sonny starting Nursery our morning routine was so loose that my request of,
“Shall we get dressed?”, would often include the caveat,
“...before breakfast/lunch/mummy gets home from work?
On Friday Sonny brought Toffee home from school. Toffee the bear.
He was really excited, Luca was jealous, and me, well I kissed goodbye to my weekend of doing nothing.
Let's face it, nothing inflicts some culture on your weekend quite like your child bringing home the class teddy.
I mentioned him on Twitter and discovered I wasn't alone.
I've never been good at accents. Ask me to voice more than two teddies and it can quickly descend into a picnic hosted by Jim Davidson.
My knowledge of animals isn't great either. Beyond the Farmyard and pages of 'Dear Zoo' it's pretty much all guesswork.
Every few years we have a weekend away with our extended family of Bryce/Mackies. The Mackies head South of the border, and we drive North until we meet half-way; in a beautifully converted barn in the Lake District.
I love everything about France, even if my last trip was memorable for very different reasons. But then who's not nearly been arrested for human trafficking at some point in their lives? Really, just me?
My recent trip to Paris with the Canvas Bloggers brought back memories of my last trip to France three years ago, particularly as we passed through passport control before boarding the ferry.
You see last time I went to France I nearly didn't get beyond this point, but then why would you if you were suspected of human trafficking?
It was my birthday last week. 39. That's thirty-nine. NOT 40! How can I be so sure? Janet insisted I produce my passport as proof, that's how!
It's become a birthday tradition to go away for a couple of days. A tradition Janet's sister was obviously unaware of when she first agreed to look after the kids three years ago.
My childhood was one big game of hide and seek, or more accurately hide, jump out, and measure your success on the pitch of the ensuing scream. Even at 38 I still feel a sense of anxiety if either of my sisters are in the house and I don't know exactly where they are at any given time.