In Which I Beg a Favour
So I do have a little plea for BB. Can we please have some kind of secret entrance on the back fence? It really is quite simple to get over the fence of an evening, a couple of extra big bounces on the trampoline and off we fly over the fence, (although I’m sure some of you did look a little askance at me climbing on with full makeup, heels, hat and clinging tightly to my handbag) but coming back is a little difficult. I’m either having to get one of those embarrassing and un-lady like leg-ups from Mike which leaves me with the lingerie sort of racked up in my secret places or, (making Mike go first for the sake of modesty) I’m having to scramble over, legs akimbo and showing the colour-coordination to all and sundry. Then when I’m at the top of the fence I have to give Mike a helping hand over the difficult spiky bit and frankly, I did ladder the nylons coming back last time. So please? How about something akin to a cat flap? - but bigger obviously.
We promise NOT to let the dodos out. And it will mean that the paperboy can just put the newspapers through it in the morning, saving you, dear Big Blogger, the onerous task of getting up early to get the papers.
Or do I have to put the Ethel Merman Disco Album on full blast?