This morning we all went into the local market town to do a bit of odd-and-ends shopping. When we returned, we waited outside for Exile #2's parents to drive in ahead of us. They pulled into the drive, then Exile #2's mum got out to open the garage door.
"There's Nan!" said Exile #4. That's right. "What's she doing?" Opening the garage door. "Why doesn't it open itself?"
We told her that this sort of garage door doesn't have a motor to open it and she was clearly confused. We never had a garage before our departure for the US and since then she has got quite used to the automatic variety.
This afternoon, Exile #2 and I went up into the loft (for US readers: we mean attic - there are boards and a light, but otherwise this is just roof-space - not a swanky in-roof apartment). Accessed by ladder, and full of cardboard boxes and cobwebs it may be, but it is also a treasure-trove of childhood 70's and 80's childhood. We found Lego, Action Man, loads of Annuals of various types a model airport and (amazingly) a model motorway service-station amongst many other things. We claimed some games suitable for our young children, some Sindys (a UK version of Barbie - if you like) and some Playmobil. There were several complete sets, played with no doubt but still in their boxes, including this deep-sea diver. Exile #3 decided that he was fishing down there. Well why not? It looks like it's working.
It's pop pun 41 for title watchers. I've got nothing left to lose. I'll listen to anything.
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