Omagh 1998

A bomb! a bomb! and they turned and ran.
Mothers took their daughters by their tiny sticky hands,
Fathers scooped their sons up in their big strong arms,
And they ran towards the bomb
And they ran towards the bomb
And they ran
             towards
                     the bomb.

Invitation: Mulled tea, mulled wine, Christmas time

We are not here for Christmas so we'd like to invite people to drop in for a little smackerel of something on Saturday 22 December, any time between about 2 and 8 pm.

Winter

Both girls are sleeping very long and late these days. Linnea is growing. They are both totally recovered from the last batch of illnesses, so presumably we'll all get smallpox tomorrow. They both have a marked propensity for falling on their heads this week. And for being finicky about incorrectly laid tables, if lunchtime is anything to go by.

Linnea still doesn't want to leave her own home much if at all. But she's stopped asking to be fed like a baby, and is sleeping ok again.

November was kind of complicated, I think.