How to sell your life on ebay?

Actually, this isn't a topic, it's more of a question. I'm hoping people have slightly better experience of this than mine... I just tend to add something, write a life story of it, and hope someone buys.

And strictly, I'm not selling my life. I'm selling Lal's and G's.

I got a phone call earlier from the Insulation people, telling me that they are starting work tomorrow on our loft. I have 325 years worth of stuff in that loft. Literally. Even though we've only lived here for 6 years. I'm amazed the roof joists have survived this long.

So, I've come to terms with the fact there will be no more babies (unless I can steal one from somewhere) so am selling most of Lal's stuff and whatever G doesn't want. (Not selling all of Lal's stuff as I also decided after G that there would be no more babies and had to spend a fortune buying everything again)

Of course, the lack of a husband does sort of mean no more.. but you know, medical advances.. and there is always another Immaculate Conception to pray for..

So! I need help. How do you sell stuff on ebay? Do I list the 27 almost exactly the same cardigans, size new baby, that he absolutely NEEDED as separate lots? Or do I do them in a bundle? The 18 designer outfits that cost upwards of £30 each (they were cute and I had hormones... don't judge me) single? lots? Frame and keep forever on a wall?

Do you write lots and lots and lots? Or do you keep it simple and succinct?

What is the strangest thing you have sold? I've listed a broken dvd player, empty perfume bottles and net curtains... even an empty glass water bottle that I had for *show* on our dining table (before the dining room became Lal's playroom)

An except from one of my auctions.. and it sold!

Now this one really is nice! It has the guaranteed look that makes people coo over your beautifully dressed baby boy.

It is actually aged 6 months, but Ebay didn't want to let me list it at that. It had to be 3-6m or 6-9m. I would say that it was generously sized, but then I had a tiny baby, For normal sized babies, I suppose it would be for a 6 month old which doesn't help you out at all.

It is a gorgeous velour type fabric, extremely soft. Separate trousers and top and will be perfect for the upcoming autumn days.

Again, I classed it as a *best* outfit, so it didn't get much wear. And it's French. Which would be a non sequitur, but it isn't, because it's French.

It even says " la clef des champs" on it, in beautiful handsewn writing. Which all you French speakers will know, stands for "This parent is falling into my trap and buying a ridiculously priced French outfit because someone somewhere said that French is best." It cost me £85 new. Yes, you did read that right. £85 new. For an outfit that the baby is likely to be sick on (he wasn't - he wouldn't have dared.. £85 *sigh*)

Oh, it's blue and white. And pretty. Well, manly.

Happy Bidding! (which really means, please buy them and don't make me have to keep them. I may have to have another child, just so he can wear it, but then the new baby would be a girl and I'd have to buy more and have more babies... you don't want to subject me to that, now do you?)

Apologies for the frankly appalling picture taking skills. I was good, but then he ate the camera.

I need tales and inspiration people!You see what happens when I'm left on my own?

(And Lal has learnt to say "beach" - he says it a lot, but it doesn't really sound like he's saying beach.. it sounds ruder. There also seems to be something that sounds suspiciously like "pee off." *sigh*

Kxx

I've had 4 bfp's (big fat positive on a pregnancy test) and have two children. With my dear, darling G, I never got a bfp at all. I never did a pregnancy test. I resolutely buried my head in the sand and refused to consider the idea that I could possibly be pregnant. Sadly, after 4 months and a rapidly burgeoning stomach, I could ignore it no more. 5 months is an ideal length for a pregnancy though.. You can even arrange a proper wedding in time.. Bad Catholic!

I've had three Yippee's that have turned into miscarriages and an ectopic, but that is over 10 years, so isn't too bad.

The happiest tale is Lal's one. Who said I favour one child over the other?

You have to forgive me, I didn't know any better then, but during an "early pregnancy symptom" search on google, I came across another Parenting forum - I know, traitorous in the extreme.. I just looked and this was my first (and last) post there:

I know some of you have experience in this so.....
I did a test this morning (first responce) and got a faint line - faint but noticeable..... am I pregnant?
Not due period until Wednesday, but am having all sort of symptoms... huge,sore breasts, nausea. I'm having slight niggling cramps as well though so I really don't know what to think! And there are no chemists open until tomorrow to get more tests

You see the naivete? I didn't know any of the terms, didn't know that a line was a line was a line. I just didn't know..

I can still remember that time, so clearly, even though I can't be entirely sure what happened yesterday..

2 days after the deed - Hmm, I feel slightly sick. Could it be? I could be, but then I just ate a 4 pack of chocolate eclairs. POAS - negative

3 days after - Ooh, ohh, ohhhh.. sore breasts. Google says yes, that is a symptom. Except I read that on day 2 so have been prodding at my breasts for the last 22 hours.POAS - negative

4 days after - Sorer breast, more prodding. Does that hurt? Cue squeeze that would rival a mammogram - it did hurt.POAS - negative

5 days after - Sick feeling again, and very tired. Did see dh off to Iraq at some ungodly hour and slept for approx 27 minutes, but no.. it's definitely another symptom.POAS - negative

6 days after - Sickness getting worse, slight tummy cramps, breasts now complaining that they have been squeezed too much and will allow nothing to touch them without actual tears of pain. POAS - negative (become convinced that there is something wrong with the tests and make 10 year old daughter take one.. realise that that isn't something a respectable parent does)

7 days after - POAS... POSITIVE. Immediately go online. Find strangers and announce pregnancy. Apologise to G. Take photos of test stick and email to dh. And email again in case the first one didn't get through.

For the next 14 days, I POAS at least once a day. (Job lot for £3.95 off ebay and a few extras from Tesco) I spent more on pregnancy tests than I did on food that month.

I was 3 weeks and 1 day pregnant when I found out. I swore that I would never again test so early - my two pregnancies since then? I tested ridiculously early then too. I have no patience at all. It's pathetic.

Oh, I should do the soppy stuff too...

Me:

My first feelings when I truly believed that I was pregnant? To place my hand on my stomach and leave it there for the next 9 months. Bump needed to know I cared.

G:

Cried and started watching American Tv shows for inspiration for names. Started hoping bump would be a boy named Cory or a girl named Raven. Was over the moon ecstatic.

Kit:

No idea of his first reaction, he was in Iraq and had to read the email. I'm pretty sure he was pleased and announced the strength of his.. umm.. deposit to a roomful of Squaddies. To me, he just sent an email back, I saved it, I am sad like that!

You daft mare, the picture you attached didn't take. Pregnant already?Thought we were still just practising. Not supposed to happen until Dec. Bloody happy. Sure you'll manage? Can get mum to move in and help. Tell Jogs to make you eat green stuff. 8 months, I'll be home, try to hold on yeah? Got leave for World Cup, so home sometime in July. Am booking tickets. Can you fly? Suppose we could all drive to Germany. James coming back too. He's staying with us. Says congrats on bun. (well done really. V hppy) K

Romantic no? In case you really wanted to know, his mother did NOT stay with me (I'd be writing this from a frozen over hell if she had) He did get to go to the World Cup, and James did stay with us for a week. I didn't receive the message to eat lots of green stuff.

Kx

The brattiest teen on the planet

I know I said that I would get back into journalling and actually make a proper effort... added three then ran away.. here's why..

The Tale of the Brattiest Teen on the planet.

G is my girl. My beautiful girl who is a pleasure to be around most days. Other days I want to plant her in compost, head first and only get her out when she's 18 and can leave home. She's not had it so easy lately. She witnessed one heck of a row between her father and I and the fallout from that hasn't been easy for any of us to cope with. Least of all her. Sadly, the children haven't been able to see daddy as much as any of us would like, contact has been reduced for a while to a couple of hours on a Saturday, and she doesn't like that. And decided to make me pay. The following is a tale and comedy of errors that she and her friend decided one night on msn. G no longer has msn. Or any sort of life.

Last Tuesday, G didn't come home from school. At all. Nothing. 4.30, no child. 5.30, no child. 6.30, no child. That isn't like her. It was dark, and cold and raining and nothing. I rang all her friends, fortunately she'd forgotten her mobile, and nothing. They'd last seen her walking home, through the park by herself. I'm afraid I did what any self respecting over protective mother would do, and called the police. They came. Looked around the house and garden in case she was hiding somewhere there, took a picture of her to circulate amongst all the other police in the area and called the Dog Unit to search the park.

By 7.30, I was hysterical and convinced that she was dead in a ditch somewhere. K was out looking, my father was driving the streets looking, my brothers were on various trains coming back from London looking, and I was sat with three phones repeatedly dialling three of her friends who hadn't answered the phone when I initially called. Nothing. The child had vanished.

At 9.30, one of the numbers I was calling, I had no idea who, finally was answered. The parent of the girl, after a very long pause, eventually deigned to tell me that she was there, and had been since 4.30. Nice of them to let me know, huh? Or to answer the phone before. 19 missed calls. pfft.

I rang the police, told them where to find her and expected her home within the hour. Again, I was mistaken. Young Miss G decided to inform the police that she was being beaten. Not smacked, or hit once, beaten. Actually beaten. Apparently she had a red mark on her arm. No one thought to question that she hadn't actually been home for me to have given her the red mark... no one considered the possibility that she was ever so slightly scared she'd be in trouble when she came home. Beaten! *sigh*

I reacted well to the accusation I must admit. I *didn't* tell the police that if I was beating her, it'd be best if she went into care then. I *didn't* go straight upstairs and pack every last item she owned into suitcases. No.. I wouldn't do that.

One sleepless night later, and I started to receive the phone calls from Social Services. And visits. The visit went well... epically well. My opening gambit? "Yes, I suppose I do beat her. Isn't it lucky that my parents paid for me to have lessons from the SAS, so i could learn how to beat her without leaving a mark..." and "I don't beat her.. I am using the Deadly Nightshade that's growing in the garden as a nice salad garnish though." Seriously. If anyone has a brainfilter going spare, I'll pay anything. I never know when to shut up.

Social Services have decided that G isn't an abused child - she will be soon though - and that they are able to close the file and just send her back to me.

The police however, still need to interview me regarding the alleged assault. The nice detective lady told me that I have nothing to worry about ( as I wan't anywhere near her to have actually hit her) but I stil need to go down to the station. This is where my watching programmes such as The Bill and Law and Order don't help... an excerpt from my conversation:

"So, when I come to see you, do I need to bring a solicitor? It's only, on The Bill.. if you're innocent and bring one then the police think you're guilty.. and if you're guilty and don't have one then you drop yourself in it. Not that I have anything to drop myself in... but you know, umm.. do I need one?"

She laughed.

"Ok, I'll be there at 10 on Thursday.. now can I bring Lal with me? He's 21 months and will stay still for a little while, or should I have someone look after him?"

Have someone look after him...

"Right.. so does that mean I'm going to be arrested and charged and sent to prison? Oh God.. he doesn't like staying with people overnight. Even when I went to London baby (Yep.. I said London baby, ffs) my parents had to move in here and he was ok, but now has a bit of nappy rash...he's in cloth most of the time, but he reacts badlt to disposables at the moment.. "

She laughed again. I'm not being arrested. I just have to confirm that I don't (yet) beat her.

The end of the story? Are you now picturing G sitting at home, loved, cuddled, all happy in the family again? Cos you'd be wrong.

My father went to collect her - after being the best dad in the world and cleaning my kitchen ceiling.. well that's what you do in an emergency situation, you clean ceilings... - and the family she was staying with wouldn't let her go!! They advised him that G was going to be living there now, and wouldn't be coming home at all.. not where she was in danger of being beaten. The father and brothers of the girl then chased my dad up the road. Poor man, he rang me from the car asking what to do.. my advice? Reverse!

Another police call and G came home. Unrepentant and uncowed. One of her gripes is that I am too old fashioned. The example she gave to the social worker was that I expect to "know where she is, who she's with and when she's coming home.." Far too old fashioned.

The upshot is that she'll be spending a little more time with her dad, a lot less time near any computer and no time at all out of the house.

Oh, and if you ever do have the misfortune to have any sort of involvement with social services, it's not the best idea to tell that when she comes home, you're going to kill her. They don't have a sense of humour about that.

The last thing Gordon the SW said to me, "Right.. so now we have a cunning plan as to where we go from here..." I tried so hard to stop myself, I pinched my thigh, I tried zipping my mouth closed, I tried.. but I failed... I responded with "A plan that is as cunning as a fox who has just been made Professor of Cunning at Oxford University?" Damn that Blackadder. And damn my lack of brain filter.

K (and the child named G who used to have a life but now has a mere existance)

Hair dye, music and randomness

First things first. As I type I have a colour on my head. No, not on my head, on my hair. I need to look presentable for the London baby meet so am attempting a home do. Good plan? Well maybe. The last time I did this my hair actually went green. I can't remember why I thought it would be a good idea to try again now, but trying again I am. Wish me luck. Oh and I can't write much tonight, I only have 33 minutes left.

And now to Lal. Nursery again, and once more into the breech. Disappeared off up the climbing frame without looking back. Lovely. I came home and actually did work today and tidied up according to my Flylady habits. It's so nice to be able to put things away and for them to stay away for longer than 6 seconds.

Picked him up at 12 and he was crying! Sobbing tears. My poor little man, he'd missed me so much.. he must have been crying the whole time I was gone. Umm, nope. He now has a girlfriend and was inconsolable because her parents had just picked her up. Missing me? Never. He still blames me for his loss and has ignored me all afternoon. I love children. And they love me, obviously.

Apart from that, not much happened today really. Force fed him a fruit pot. He stole the Gingerbread man box and ate 8 heads before I realised. Carnage.

Ooh, I was chatting to someone on the phone about something completely different when the conversation turned to song lyrics. You know, as it does. I can't do lyrics. I hear them, I know them, but I seem to hear something completely different to everyone else. For example..

"My world crumbles when you are not here..." I hear, "I want cockles when you are not here.."

For G's singing exam, she had to perform Truly Scrumptious, from Chitty.. she got into the exam and was marked down for singing "Scrumptious as a cherry beach buffet." Who knew the actual words were "cherry peach parfait?"

There's the song, I don't know which one it is, but says something along the lines of "And every time I close my eyes I piss myself.." I'm pretty sure it doesn't actually say that.. but who can tell?

Ooh, that reminds me. There must be older mums out there who remember taping the Top 40 off the radio every Sunday night? You'd always get a couple of DJ words in your mix... sitting for hours with your finger on the pause button. Children these days, with their Ipod doodahs have it so easy. They'll never know the simple pleasures of the pause button.

Oh, and making "Songs to Commit Suicide By" tapes... filled with "I danced with him to this song," "He told me he fancied Linzy whilst this song was playing," "I'll never get over this broken heart so I'll listen to the Carpenters and cry" songs. The same songs that you played on the tape and paused after every line so you could write them down to learn them. Unless you we were of "those" people who saved their pocket money to buy Smash Hits magazine that actually had lyrics in..

Cd's have a lot to answer for. And I've wittered on for so long my hair is probably neon by now.. I'll let you know tomorrow how it turned out.

K x

You are dead to me now..

So.. nursery. My baby boy was sent, without a care for his well being to nursery today. How could I do it to him?

We woke up slightly late, but still ridiculously early at 6.45. You know, we need time to prepare for momentous occasions such as these. Lal woke happy, G woke in her usual complaining mood, and I was unable to unglue my eyes to open them for 19 minutes. I hate mornings.

Clothes were chosen, not to good as to be showy offy, or ruined at the slightest hint of paint, and not too shabby so as to appear down at heel. Thought has to go into these things you know. Right, so that was me done, now time for Lal. Cute little trousers and the matching top that was bought for him last Christmas and finally fits now! Yay. Hair brushed and curls teased back (him) make up done and hair brushed ..in the vain hope that someone somewhere might things it's a hair do.. (me) tie wonky and skirt rolled up (G).

It's now 7.47 and we're all ready. Right. Umm. Take G to school at 8.20.. and Lal to nursery for 9. Slightly early.. ooh.. we all have time for breakfast, yay! Family take tops off in case milk is spilt down them and munch merrily away on cereal (G) banana (me) and Gingerbread Man.. (guess who.. *sigh*)

Tops back on.. let's be off. Lecture G in the car on the way to school about how her uniform choices now will affect her entire future. If the skirt continues to be rolled up, she'll only be able to get a job as a street worker in Soho. Then realise that I am not actually talking to myself and try to get out of explaining what it actually is a street worker does.

"Umm, well.. ok, you're old enough now. They sell their bodies for sex. Like, making money.. no, not like making money, actually making money. It's not good. And is wrong. No, they don't make lots of money. Well they can do, but it's not a nice way to earn a living. Yes, I know you like short skirts, and I suppose you do have a nice figure.. but that does NOT mean that being a street worker is a profession you can aspire to. Georgina. No. Oh come on. You know I didn't mean to start this conversation. C'mon Pa. Ok... you're here now. Have a lovely day. Don't tell any of your (catholic) teachers what I said. Ooh ooh.. wait a second.. Mary Magdalene was a street worker.. (door slams as G runs away quickly) Bloody great, I've just spent the last 5 minutes extolling the virtues of prostitution. And now I'm talking to myself. Hey Lal, shall we sing Here we go looby lou?"

And breathe. I shouldn't be left in charge of children. Or speech. I need some sort of brain filter.

Got to the nursery, after 2 rounds of Louby Lou, and 1 round of Lal the Builder... shut. Check time. 8.28. Great. Drive home,, park car, get Lal out and go inside. Decided to walk to the nursery even though it's a whole 5 minutes walk away, so get the pushchair out. Lal sees pushchair and turns into Excito boy shouting "park park park park" and running in circles.. until he trips over his own foot. Waste time double checking that I have packed nappies, wet wipes, drink, dentinox (last used a year ago.. but he might need it) calpol in case of fever emergency, first aid kit in case theirs isn't stocked, list of 14 emergency numbers.. all the things a panicking mother needs, and then leave.

Arrived at the nursery at 9.04 and watched as Lal ran away. He *did* shout bye over his shoulder, but didn't even have the decency to pretend tears. Nothing, nada, zilch. Just pure happiness that they had a climbing frame. Traitor.Left him and came home to get on with my work.

I did nothing. I had 18 phone calls to make, but didn't. Emails to send, but didn't. Website uploading to do, but didn't. I did spend a little while ringing my own phone line from my mobile in case there was a problem. And then cried because what if the nursery had called whilst I was ringing? I did sit and stare at the clock counting down minutes. I did just sit. And wait. For the big hand to get near 12.

And then it did. I walked so quickly to the place that my calves were actually screaming in pain. I was out of breath when I arrived, and what did I find? My son, my dear delightful boy, who had SLEPT for an hour and a half. He doesn't sleep for me. Oh no, no naps for a month now. But nursery? The place he doesn't know? The people he doesn't know? He'll sleep perfectly happily for them. Because, you know, I'm paying for him to nap! Three hours he was there, and slept for half of it. Great.

Oh, and did he run to me in slow motion, with arms out stretched, whilst slow music built to a crescendo in the background? Did he heck! He glanced once in my direction and refused to look at me again. Seriously. I've been ignored ALL afternoon and evening. I did get the narrow eyed glare at about 4 that said " I thought you cared about me mother. But then you left me at that place. I don't know you any more. You're dead to me now." That look. Apart from that.. if he absolutely had to have something, he fixed his gaze somewhere over my left shoulder and said "Gingee" I glumly provided Gingerbread men.

So... nursery was a success for him. For our relationship, I fear I have damaged it beyond repair. Although... he did give me a hug before he took himself up to bed..maybe there is hope...

Except he goes again tomorrow...

*sigh*

K xx

And back again..

I've made my decision, and I'm here to stay. I keep losing so much time that I just haven't had any spare to journal. My nights don't feel complete with my record of my day, so I'm starting again. I made a list so I could remember what I was going to say.. but I lost it somewhere. Balls. Maybe headings will help?

Life according to G..

She has started cadets. She wasn't so sure after the first outing - told me that everyone there had been sent because they were alcoholics, drug dealers and had been given 18 ASBO's by the time they were three. Slight parental digging revealed the true reason to be that they expected 10 push ups a night and G can only manage half of one. She tried, bless her. She's back at school, no problems so far, is settling in well and actually working! Still having the same issues with the rolled up skirt - ooh, a new one! What's with the lopsided pony tail? Does she not realise we're not living in the 80's anymore? I said that to her, and that I'd buy her some legwarmers... she reminded me that I bought them for Lal..so what's the problem? well yes, but they're not called legwarmers, they're called Baby legs and they are just cute... I lost that argument and she still has a lopsided head. She does it to try me. She also decided that she needed to create her own fake ID so that she could go to the shops and buy me cigarettes. Apparently a non smoking me isn't very nice..

Life according to Lal..

Not many more words, although his ability to climb has now reached legendary status. Seriously. He star jumped off is pushchair earlier. And climbed to the top of his easel and balanced. BALANCED. Sorry for shouting, but if there is one thing designed to stop my heart dead, it's the sight of a 21month old sitting on top of an easel. He starts nursery tomorrow. I dread to think how they are going to handle him. He may well be responsible for a sudden shortage of Nursery workers in our area. Stress related absences are on the up aren't they? He doesn't eat anymore. Well he does, but only yogurt (must be Petit Filous) fruit pots, gingerbread men and carrot puffs. That's it. Nothing else. At all. He knows it winds me up, so opens his mouth as if willing to taste some yummy Cottage Pie, smiles at me and spits it all back out. He starts nursery tomorrow.. He hasn't quite got to grips with the "No" thing yet either. He will do something naughty, and whilst doing it will tell himself off. The worst, however, is when for example, he opens the fridge and starts removing stuff... he gets told "No" and stops.. Awww.. I then open the fridge to put the just about to break milk bottle back in, and get my fingers slammed in the door and vociferously told "NO Mama.. nessy" But, but... I'm the grown up.. I'm allowed to do it. The new rule of the house, according to Lal.. If he can't do it, no one can... He starts nursery tomorrow... Only for 3 hours, 3 mornings a week. I'm looking forward to it now. I'll be a wreck tomorrow.

Life according to me..

I am ashamed to say that I decided to give up giving up. And am a fully fledged smoker again (shh, tell no one, they'll shout at me) In my own non existent defence, I've had a very stressful few weeks and it probably wasn't the best time. OOh, I also discovered Flylady! She emails me every morning telling me to look at my "control journal" and do tasks from it. Houseworkey type tasks. For a neat and clean freak like me, it's the closest I'll get to heaven for a while. I wonder if it's the child in me that just wants to giggle inanely at the last line of her email.. Here, read and enjoy..

REMINDER: YOUR MORNING ROUTINE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

Do you need a Pep Talk this morning!

We are going to build a Morning Routine for your Control Journal or to just post on the refrigerator. Here is what I do.

1. Get up and weigh
2. Shower, get dressed to lace up shoes,fix your hair and face
3. While you are in the bathroom Swish and Swipe
4. Grab a load of laundry and start the washer
5. Check your calendar for today's activities
6. Empty dishwasher to start your day
7. Eat something good for you, take your medicine and vitamins
8. What's For Dinner
9. Drink your water.
10. Put some Loving Movement into your day. - Yeah.. umm.. ok..

Told you! I'm a child...

I've been massively busy trying to build up my enterprises, but things are going well.. this time next year, I'll be a.. well you know. Possibly even this time next week if I can get the Euromillions!

This weekend, a group of Dec 06 mums are heading off to London for a mum's only meet. We are staying in a hotel in Kensington and planning on drinking lots. We even have a flying Hushy coming in from Scotland. Expect many fuzzy pictures on Monday. I can't wait actually, it'll be my first proper break away from the children since before they were embryos. Fab!

I've wittered on enough for tonight. I did have much catching up to do though, so.. well just so!

Lal.. nursery tomorrow. Am looking forward to it, and will do until 9.02 when I realise that he's not here...

Kxx

Our favourite book

Books! I like books. I read many of them. Over and over.

When I was a child, I truly believed that I was the missing member of Famous Five. If they'd had me on their team, we'd have found the missing treasure on Kirrin Island in half the time. I still say "smashing" now, drives G mad.

And then I got older and discovered the magic that was Malory Towers. I wanted to *be* Darryl and have her legendary temper that she inherited from her father. And Marylou and her timidity, Sally for her steadfast loyalty (whilst all term denying that she had a baby sister until her appendix burst and Super Darryl's father saved the day) I used to try brushing my hair 100 times like Gwendoline Mary Lacey, could never quite manage it, but Miss Grayling called it, it took some time, but Gwen did manage to become a "worthwhile young lady."

Older still and the Judy Blume addiction began. How many people my age (and I'm not telling you what that is) don't remember and giggle childishly at the name Ralph? Or can still tell you what page *that* happened on?

During my depressing teenage years, I started reading books about Nuclear War. Z for Zacharia, Children of the Dust, Brother In the Land.. I loved them all. Thinking back, I must have been quite young when I read them, the girl in one survived because she lived under the kitchen table and only drank bottled water. 4 days I lasted before my mum refused to feed me anymore.

My all time favourite book now, is one I read years ago, and is now out of print. It's called "A covenant with death." It's the story of a Pals regiment of the First World War, the tagline.. ""2 years in the making, 5 minutes in the destroying." A true story of a group of 200 factory workers who all joined up on the same day, 180 of them were wiped out in the first 5 minutes of the Somme. Another depressing one!

I like Marian Keyes.. does that make up for it? And ooh, nearly forgot the Danielle Steel years... Zoya, Fine Things.. tragic heroines who become world leaders.. love it!

G's favourite book hasn't yet been written. And never will be. She would rather have both arms amputated by toothpick accident than willingly read. Breaks my heart.When she was little, she used to love us reading ... gah.. what's it called? "Oh no," said Mr Bear." I can't stand this... " He didn't get any sleep... grr.. what's the betting I remember it as soon as I hit publish?!

Lal loves anything Bob related, Thomas related, and anything he can gnaw at. Ooh, proud Catholic mama.. he does love the God Loves Me bible.. Sits for at least 30 mins "reading" that one.

I just hope that it will continue for him. I loved reading, still do..

Kxx