It comes to something when you spend the school run dodging the dog poo again. Maybe it’s seasonal? Perhaps as the weather starts to cool, some folk decide that hanging around for longer than it takes their pooch to empty their bowels is simply a step too far.
Of course, there are plenty of responsible dog owners around.
I personally couldn’t comprehend leaving chipolatas of puppy poo on the pavements, all ready for small children to trip over (or worse, into) and for pedestrians to christen their soles with.
And what of the poor people who are still braving their flip-flops?
The very idea of plunging your Havaianas into a pile of poop, bare toes lying prone and vulnerable to exposure, is literally foul.
A mahoosive poo was left outside our forecourt recently, and although I have poo bags a-plenty, there is something pretty putrid about picking up a poo that does not belong to your own hound.
Obviously there’s nothing great about picking up a poo anyway, but it’s akin to changing another baby’s nappy.
It just ain’t your own.
There are some local streets that are becoming the faeces equivalent of Harry Potter’s Diagon Alley, except there’s very little magic involved and myriad choice of dog poos.
A couple of weeks ago there was also a spate of some lazy so-and-so dumping their dog poo bags, complete with poo package, on the pavements and street corners.
What in the name of poo bins is this fresh hell? You can pick up the poo, you can bag it, but you just can’t hold onto it long enough to dump it in a bin?
Sort yourself out!
It must have been the same person because the poo bags were all the same dark maroon colour, so a poo-dumping suspect with unusual taste in baggage.
Not standard black (or even Tesco value nappy sack) for them.
Oh no, poo bags that matched some local school uniforms instead, only attached to an owner so lazy that they couldn’t even hold onto them for long enough to transport them to a bin.
Shame on you.
A good bit of creativity – and the odd needle in the bottom
My husband and eldest daughter have started renovating a dolls’ house that he picked up on eBay for a fiver.
However, the amount of space the pests are taking up is incredible.
They are spilling out of the dining room and around the house.
Pots of PVA and huge books full of fabric swatches surround me.
The spaces I usually use to sit and work are now liable to leave me with an errant needle in the bottom, and tiny threads and snippets are being trodden left, right and all over.
That said, at such a bargain price – not to mention that it’s creative and doesn’t involve a screen – I am not complaining. Much.
How can it be possible our Small Fry is in double digits?
This week, my youngest daughter will turn 10. She will be in double digits, which is simply amazing.
The idea of a decade passing in such a blur, just astounds me.
As a parent, you always remember the weight of your baby in your arms. Their vulnerable heads, balancing and bobbling on their tender stem of a neck, and the feel of their fragile skull in your palm, is a sensation that I don’t think you ever forget.
And I hope I’m right.
Like a physical ache you feel your child wherever you go. The idea that in another 10 years she will be 20 is both terrifying and exciting.
Small Fry, mummy loves you x