Gloves and scarves reprise

Also, with gloves, you cannot undo buttons or zips , I nearly peed in my pants. And , the loo in North Greenwich station has stainless steel seats. Is bloody freezing. Your bum freezes to the seat. Was only desperation that made me have to pee before walking home.

One has to hover. Luckily I got this down to a fine art before it got as cold as it is now. Was bloody cold enough in autumn.

Amazingly, on the walk down to the Tube this morning, there on the pavement was my scarf! A bit wet and snowed upon, but there nonetheless. I am pleased seeing as it was brand new and matches my gloves.

It snowed again today. We went out to Caterham today to look at a house, and the snow there was much heavier than in Greenwich. Lovely , really....

The house was ...... small. Nice, neat, sweet, awfully well placed and in the loveliest of Villages, but small.

Not being picky here...truly I am not. But in total, including 3 beds and 2 baths, with all the normal rooms that go in a house, still did not quite make 100 sq m. That includes a garage.

Bloody hell.

But, not at all daunted, we are returning on Saturday to look at other houses (bigger houses) in this truly lovely and snowy village. A good sign as well, is that the estate agent is not a total arse like the last few have been. Of course, I feel obliged to tell these agents just how bad they are and that they would never ever have worked for me. This does not always go down too well, although some agents seem to be quite thick skinned. This particular agent is a very holy christian who is hovering on the edge of sharing the blessed gospel with us. Poor man has no idea, so best he restrains from this path.

I laughed merrily at one agent's approach to sales. Felt The Hubby cringe somewhat, but even he is starting to take a low tolerance approach to the absurd stupidity of the UK agents.

Being stuck in a lift for an hour at a viewing with our least favourite estate agent was rather interesting.

We will find a house. Eventually. Somewhere.

The Hubby has been persuaded again to work another month for the Irish lot. They love him.

But no, we are so not going to live in Dublin. Is too far from the children.

Too many potatoes, and I am already as fat as a pig from the not smoking. If we moved to Dublin with all the potatoes I would be on the news as one of the people who was removed from her house with a crane. As it is I need a crane to move me from the bed to the bathroom. Looking for a house may be more complicated as we may need an extra bedroom just for me.

Hmm