Ninja of the House

I live with a nutter.

He thinks he's a ninja from the good old days when you could sink a cutlass in someone and watch them cry blood for mercy. He thinks his food should be served at the same time every day and will think nothing of screaming at the top of his lungs should you be a few minutes late. He goes out without telling me. He comes in when he wants. And normally with dirty boots spreading mud all over the cream carpets.

But does he care? No. Because he is the boss and we should all quake before him.

But sometimes, when there's a draught from the window or rain's thundering down the chimney, he shows his true colours. The ninja of the household becomes one giant soppy pussycat. And all the mud stained carpets in the World couldn't make me love him any less.

- Photo by me, 2011, the ninja of the house

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Slackness

I've been so slack. Slacker than a pair of middle aged pants around the ankles of a slack jawed tight rope walker. I've been writing a few pages here and there and thinking many writery thoughts in my head. But it feels as though I haven't been doing enough and this is my eternal problem. So here I am writing something tangible and bankable and making you read it because it will make me feel as though I've actually done something with my day. As opposed to all the stuff I really have done with my day which is very impressive actually I'll have you know. It's just not in the general theme of writing or anything I might enjoy doing. And in other news it's been a stunning day in London town. Almost makes me happy to be here. Almost.

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