Woke to a most stunning morning today. My friend Ms. Muir and her daughters stayed with us and we have spent the weekend laughing and playing and stoking the fire and gossiping and watching up and eating. It has been lovely.
This morning I made a coffee and went out the front to tell all the birds to shut the fuck up when I noticed Sonia and her trailer.
Nothing new there. Sonia likes to pull her trailer. It makes her feel strong and useful.
But the unusual thing is that this trailer had a motorbike on it when we all turned in for the night.
You read that right. Mr Woog is a victim of crime! His beloved bike was cut free and stolen. I have never seen him cry before, but this morning he came as close to weeping as I have seen.
So, if there is a slight chance that you stole Mr Woog's pride and joy last night, you can return it to the place on whence you flogged it from and no questions will be asked.
And indeed, motorbike thief and mummy blog reader, if you do not return my beloved's bike, I wish you a lifetime of seeping cold sores, with each new one larger and more painful than the last. So savage would be your cold sore growth, you might have wished you had stolen the full faced helmet too, you motherfucker.
Karma. x
