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Living with Luke 16

July 3, 2013


Funny story.  As you may or may not know, Tiddles does love his trains.  It used to be the Diecast models, then the wooden ones, but now he has moved up to the Hornby trains and boy, has he moved up…

‘£120 for a model train?  Is that decimal point in the right place?’

‘You do love your son, don’t you sir?’

‘Yes of course, but for that price I wanted it to be made of gold…’

Anyhow, as I said, Tiddles loves his trains and these are set up in the conservatory downstairs.  And at times he loves them so much that he forgets that he needs to go to the toilet and by the time he realises this, it’s usually too late.  We only have the one toilet upstairs (God, the depravation!) and so he goes out into the garden and has a wee on the grass.  To this day there is a patch of earth that will never see grass growing again.  If you ever come round to ours, you will spot it immediately as all the chlorophyll from the surrounding area has gone…

One day Tiddles was upstairs, playing with his other trains, the ones that didn’t cost as much.  After a while, he came downstairs and went to the conservatory, unlocked the back door and looked out.  It had been raining and so the decking was wet (I know what you’re thinking…a Conservatory? Decking? Where on earth do they live, on the QE2?  Trust me folks; it’s more like a P&O Ferry).  So seeing that the decking was wet, Tiddles came back into the kitchen, got a glass down from the cupboard and proceeded to wee into the glass.

‘Is anybody going to drink this glass of warm apple juice?  If not then I’ll have it…’

And even though I washed it thoroughly with water hot enough to kill lobsters, there is always that nagging thought now whenever I get a glass down out of the cupboard;

‘Was this the one??’

And I’ve never drunk apple juice since…


Following on from the last blog about my screaming fit at Tiddles last week, there was an additional unexpected bonus later on, as Tiddles spent half an hour tickling me.  Obviously, his idea of tickling isn’t gentle and it was constant and on the least sensitive parts of my legs and feet.  BUT it was a bonus nonetheless, an impromptu visit from him, as if to say to me;

‘There you go whatever your name is.  It’s ok.  I forgive you.   You’re not mum and I’m not sure I’ll ever remember your name, but I hope this makes you feel better…?’  And do you know what?  It did…

Just when I think I’m down again, he’s ‘like an angel sitting on my shoulder…’


Cos Tiddles loves ya…



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