At last, it's come ....

... my new sofa. Just in time for my birthday. Hoorah. You may remember we ordered it some time ago, and it has finally, finally, arrived. Here you go, have a look:

What do you reckon?

Actually, I don't really care what you reckon, especially if you don't reckon much of it. Because I like it, and that's what matters.

Note the gold wall, too, as promised. It looks a bit pink in daylight, but in the evening with the lights on they reflect off it nicely - it does have a metallic finish, honest, just you can't really tell in this photo - and it comes into its own, making a nice cosy warm glowing feeling - especially with the fire lit.

If you look especially hard, you can see (1) an invitation for my posh cousin's wedding, and (2) an empty yogurt pot (photograph sabotage by Child Two).

Talking of Child Two, she did the flag carring thing for her Beaver (snurk) pack at the St George's Day parade at the weekend. Despite my recent cynicism on the subject and my derision of religion* generally, I was as proud as can be of my little girl. She looked fabulous: smart, keen, attentive, pretty; and she did her job (carrying the flag around the streets at the front of her pack, and then ceremoniously into the church as a sort of honour brigade, and out again) calmly and sensibly and with pride. Child One, as a cub, paraded also with dignity and sense. He's been made a Seconder now (2nd in command of a group of six, called an, uh, Six) and is enjoying the responsibility I think.

However .... the real reason for my enjoyment of the occasion: it did mean that the LOML and I got to go and sit in a coffee shop drinking latte and eating muffins and reading the papers in peace for an hour and a half on a Sunday morning, which under normal circumstances would be absolutely unheard of.

Incidentally, under a 'what is the country coming to?' topic: Child One went to cubs this week and their activity was to play basketball at a local park. There were some teenage boys there, and a brief verbal altercation ensued, culminating in the middle-aged female leader, Akela, being told to "fuck off, bitch". In front of a whole troupe of eight to ten year olds in uniform. With no adult male present. Now, my boy has never lived anywhere other than a small village and is to say the least not very streetwise, so I expected this to upset him. That he remains remarkably phlegmatic about it is tribute to both the Akela's strength and determination (they stayed and played their basketball) and my boy's strength of character.

I wish I had been there to argue with. We'd have seen what they would have said to a full grown man instead, huh. And yes, I know this is both petty posturing and hypocritical I'm-bigger-than-you-ness, but it just makes me so fucking cross. How dare they expose my boy to that?

I may need to go and lie down on my new sofa to calm down.

*I may trademark this phrase so don't nick it. Or, do, and see if I care really.