Why didn’t you tell me I had a moustache?

This morning, the bathroom mirror informed me that I had a moustache. ‘Yeah, you’ve got a moustache, man. You’ve had it for ages,’ it said. Eeeew. I haven’t noticed people sneaking glances at my upper lip mid-chat. But there it was. They must’ve been wrestling their instincts to the ground: ‘Look at her moustache!’ ‘I’m not looking, you mean bastard.’ ‘You’re gonna look. You’re definitely gonna look.’ ‘Ggggggh. You can’t … Continue reading Why didn’t you tell me I had a moustache?

My daughter is a grubby little soap dodger (and I think she gets it from me)

How often does a four year old need to wash? More often than my daughter, I’d imagine. Maya does not like getting clean. She used to look forward to baths. Showers were a real novelty for about a week. And then, all of a sudden, the love affair ended and Maya and hygiene went their separate ways. I realised things had got bad when she went for a week … Continue reading My daughter is a grubby little soap dodger (and I think she gets it from me)