I rediscovered my urge to stay in bed and snooze at the bottom of sandpit just outside Ayr. I had gone down the chute for the millionth time and was lying face down in the sand. At any moment a certain smallish chap was going to follow me down and land on top of me while certain largish grown ups cheered and clapped.
And it occurred to me - Bear, you're too old for this. You should be at home in bed in a pair of smart pyjamas with willing and attentive servants dusting you off occasionally and plumping up your stuffing.
I'll never join the Parabears or get myself shot out of a cannon now but I'm ok with that. I am still available for any extreme snoozing or hardcore picnicking that might be happening.
hmmmmmmm. Would a smoking jacket be taking things too far?
We still haven't found that Madame's get-up-and-go though. I think it might be tangled up in all that wool stuff she's been bringing into the house recently. It's everywhere - like tribbles - and she never seems to have enough. I thought it worked this way - buy some wool type stuff + do some knitting = knitted thing - but apparently it's more complicated and knitting even a tiny little thing involves buying tonnes of wool and hiding it in cupboards so that there isn't space for a small bear to retire there for a nap.
And then there are all the needles. Which small bears MUST NOT PLAY WITH even though the nice big fat chunky needles were just made for games of Harpoon!
I might have to make an official complaint to The Daddy when he visits next month. He has just had a Very Important Birthday and is now an Official Old Person. This is very exciting and good news for several reason but best of all he gets a rather nice bus pass thing so he can come and visit us on our slightly less important birthday.
Must go. Hoping I'll have time for a snooze or two before bedtime. Life is good in the slow lane.
