Crapston Villas.

My furniture has been in storage since last September, but now the house is almost back to normal, we've started bringing it back. Yesterday, the sofa, bookcases, and a few boxes of books, DVD's, and video's were returned. I should have sorted through it all before my life was buried in a container in Horsham, but I didn't, so I went through the films yesterday, and chucked out a few that haven't been watched for years, and are never likely to see the light of day again. I made a small pile of stuff I didn't want anymore, while Ted worked hard on constructing a perfect, lifesized replica of the space shuttle from the cardboard boxes the stuff had been stored in. It was almost pleasant, the mafia were asleep in the garden, and here I was with my boy, who was fully occupied, and not chewing my ankle in his never ending attempts to get at my tibia. I've had strong words with Ted about the fondness I feel for my tibia, I've explained how helpful it will be when he's old enough to go out for walks, and how sad I'd be if it ended up under the willow tree, along with my hairbrush, three odd socks, a cucumber plant label, an assortment of pegs, two flowerpots, a parsnip top, one fatally injured iPod charger, a plastic, headless US marine, and a two litre milk bottle, but it isn't sinking in just yet.
After two hours, of polishing the bookcases, and neatly arranging the books and films, I stood back to admire my hard work, and looked down at Ted, who was curled up fast asleep in his bed. I had a very brief, ahhhhhhhhhh isn't he sweet moment, but I'm a firm believer in the, let sleeping dogs lie theory, and I reckon it applies ten fold to puppies, so I left him to dream of flying his space shuttle to a previously undiscovered universe, and if I'm totally honest, I really wasn't bothered if he'd be home in time for tea. Well he was home by tea time, and as Mr Sleepyhead stumbled out of bed, I saw he'd been snoozing on top of a video I'd thrown out. It's called Crapston Villas....the irony:O)