Bit of Barbra Streisand this morning Guilty Too. I asked my brother for this, he was so ashamed of my music selection, he ordered it online to be delivered. But I adore this album. It was being advertised as I was healing after the maelstrom of my first marriage. The songs are beautiful, gentle and her voice washes over me like a balm still. And I’ve already expounded on the Brother Gibb and how much I love them previously on here. I don’t have a hope in meeting the higher notes, it’s fair to say that I have a lower register voice when I sing, but doing the housework to this album doesn’t stop me climbing a ladder to get to them. Even though the cat leaves the house, it is because of the vacuum cleaner, not my screech – honest.
I was emailing a friend yesterday, and said that I’m still listening to the spoken word more than music at the moment. I’m inhaling podcasts, maybe it’s because I’m not reading as much, or the radio here is so dire. I need Radio 2 or 4 equivalent, not that I’d be able to listen to it at work, lucky A – who can listen to what she likes. Not listening to the radio does mean I’m missing out on new music, not that a lot of it I’d actually choose to listen to. I have a pathological loathing TV talent shows, which seems to generate the majority of the pop around. I can honestly say I’ve not listened to a One Direction song, and the conversations around me today after Dami(?) won last night on one show here in Australia are passing me by. Bit like the Big Brother conversations, I’d rather watch paint dry.
Last night after we’d got Peanut off to sleep (many thanks Hubs, sterling effort) I put on Broadchurch. OMG! I’d been saving it up, I watched three back-to-back, and now have got to watch the rest of them before the weekend, lest I go mad. Five hours of TV watching to fit in, while I prepare for weekend away, not sure how I’m going to do it to be honest with you all. How good is Olivia Coleman, the woman is a marvel. Mind you, after the night Peanut gave us, up five or six times till we gave up at 5:30, I may as well have stayed awake and watched them all anyway.
The last of his baby molars are coming through, the top two are there, but I’ve not been able to get a peep at his bottom jaw. I’m willing to lay money this weekend he will be exhausting, he always seems to time his sickness when we’re away. Usually visiting Hanno too. Never mind, we’ll muddle through. We always do. We’re laying the groundwork now, tomorrow will be a normal day, but we’re going to be visiting Uncle Hanno this weekend, we’re going to see Dadda’s cousin this weekend as well. Friday night we’ll be packed and ready to go, Broadchurch notwithstanding, so we can give him a shower, get him into his travelling monster suit and head on up to NSW.
Please note – the cat and house sitter has been booked any potential burglars!
Which just gives us Thursday night to get through. We’ll be putting a sign out to say, be safe, but no trick or treating here. Yes, I know, bah humbug and all that. But I’m not going to try and justify why neither of us do Halloween in this post. I’ll gather my thoughts and see what I can do later this week for y’all. They’ve got a fancy dress day for them all at nursery. I’ve brought him a pirate hat and will make sort something out of his wardrobe for him to wear based around that. He loves pirates, so it won’t be too traumatic for him to wear, but all the ghost and ghoul stuff in the shops scares him silly, so Thursday could be a bit of a trial for the staff.