Returned to Harare from Hippo Pools tired, dusty and delighted with all our treasure (pods, wild fruit etc for Daniel’s nature table at school), to find that ZESA had blown the borehole over the weekend and we had not a drop of water in the house. Peachy.
Graham is reading a book called “Living with a Willy” in preparation for his “birds and bees” chat with Daniel (in about 6 years time! We might be a tad premature methinks – no pun intended). I’ve read it already. It was a gift and I was overcome with curiosity. The author has 101 euphemisms for the word “penis”, most of which make me blush. We might just chicken out, and give him the book to read himself!
Adult diapers – you’d think they would come up with a more discreet, attractive name? – usually the preserve of the aged, would I think do well for people who have given birth to one or more children (naturally) and suffer from hay fever. Hay fever characterized by violent sneezing – in the early hours of the morning – when you are likely to have a full bladder anyway – and you are understandably reluctant to get out of bed, it being the middle of winter… I’m assuming here, having no personal experience to draw upon, just a guess …
I am reliably informed that the new, “in” term for kissing is “lunging”. Sounds quite aggressive. I would be inclined to protect my tonsils against the inevitable onslaught if such a proposition ever arose. Yes, we can agree that it is unlikely – my lunging days – inept slobbering – are over, for which I am quite grateful if a bit nostalgic …