Have known since was 8 that was never ever going to be Darcey Bussell type (nor did Darcey Bussell, given that this was 1978 and do not think she was born yet, but you get drift). Was not through some epiphany of self-awareness. Was through no-nonsense words of mother i.e. “you dance like elephant, Joanna”. Was dream-shattering moment (despite fact that at that point actually wanted to be Velvet Brown and win Grand National dressed as boy). So have been v careful not to shatter dreams of Millie, who has changed her mind from original plan of being either a) astronaut or b) Vanessa Hudgens, and decided she wants to be Olympic swimmer: Millie: mummy what are those people doing Me (glancing up from Grazia long enough to focus on telly): um. Is Olympics. Millie: What is Olympics. Me: Is test of who is best at what sport. Like sports day. But without hula-hoops, beanbags on head or carrying water in hole-ridden buckets. Millie: What is my Olympic. Me: Um… swimming? Millie: Will I be allowed to wear my goggles. I cannot swim underwater without goggles. Me: Yes Millie: And a snorkel? Me: Er… no. They don’t need one. They just come up for air. Millie: No they don’t. Me: Yes they do. Millie: No they don’t. Me: This is like mouse egg conversation all over again. Yes you can wear snorkel. Which will explain, is because Millie panicked that cat would eat Hama bead mistaking it for mouse egg. Said mice do not come from eggs. Millie said do mice come from sea? Said no do not. Millie said come from eggs then. I said no do not. Millie said yes do etc etc until sex education conversation had to be resurrected for about tenth time in as many months. Which is why am not going to tell truth i.e. that potential as Olympian only really possible if Junior Scrabble becomes official sport, and they allow cheating. Because somehow, no matter what subject is, I will have to end up explaining YET AGAIN that Millie, like mice, did not hatch self out of giant egg. Which frankly, is kind of nice thought. Like being Rebecca Adlington. Or Darcey Bussell.
- Whore of Essex, I love theeBe still, my beating heartBook rec: utterly compelling non-fic about the pervasive male gaze that reads like the very best story, although, Jesus, I wish none of this were true. Thank you @acwilsonwriter for telling me I must read this and @cotswoldrose33 for sending it my wayHappy slicing OC styleThe Talk of Pram Town #essexandproud #essexgirl #harlow #bookstagramBest book post. Proof of The Talk of Pram Town. Out in June. *does delighted Friday dance*
- RT @PugandLadyM: #Queenofbloodyeverything I realise I'm a little slow to the party on this one but I've just finished this book. You have… 10 hours ago
- RT @RubyMayCee: Booksmart is on Amazon prime!!! Go go go!! 21 hours ago
- And in news from the 1800s... oh, wait... twitter.com/govjersey/stat… 22 hours ago
- ‘But they don’t have willies!’ moans withered old testicle. twitter.com/guardian/statu… 1 day ago
- *hollow laughter* twitter.com/reneeapril92/s… 1 day ago
Search this site