I twatted my back today. I got fed up walking round the three quarters of a ton of sand that has been sitting in a bag in my front garden since... hasty search of the blog later... since Tuesday, April 18, 2006. Which is over a year. Long enough to have been walking around anything. Today, with a little help from my mum, and an even littler help from Daisy, I moved it.
Half-way through shovelling the sand into a wheel barrow I felt my back go 'twang'. My own stupid fault. I know how to shovel stuff. I know how to lift stuff. I have spent enough of my life lifting and shovelling stuff. I have been paid to lift and shovel stuff.
Half-way through shovelling the sand into a wheel barrow I felt my back go 'twang'. My own stupid fault. I know how to shovel stuff. I know how to lift stuff. I have spent enough of my life lifting and shovelling stuff. I have been paid to lift and shovel stuff.
As William Macy said in his role as the superhero The Shoveller in Mystery Men:
"God's given me a gift. I shovel well. I shovel very well."Today I didn't.
Talking of mysteries, the mystery card senders have been identified. My mum's sister's grand daughter and family. I didn't know I had a mum's sister's grand daughter and my brain just can't work out what the relationship between them and my kids would be called: 'Cousins removed to the Nth degree' or somesuch.
Any doubts I had about Daisy being any less weird a child than Holly were dispelled the other day when she stated doing a little dance pointing vigorously at her crotch while singing:
I'm pointing at my bum, I'm pointing at my bum, I'm pointing at my bum!
Me:
Why are you pointing at your bum?
Daisy:
Because I want to.
Why are you pointing at your bum?
Daisy:
Because I want to.
