The world from my window

I get home and struggle out of the car with the shopping. The Lidl bags nearly split open with shock when I trip over a large, fluffy rabbit on the doorstep. It's bright eyed and bushy tailed but very dead. Like me, it's gutted. Mr Grigg is dispatched to Mr and Mrs Champagne-Charlie's to say thank you, but it wasn't from them. Mr Grigg decides to skin the thing on my beautiful kitchen island and I wince and bristle and then end up shouting when he spills blood on the beech wood surface. I remove myself from the scene and look at Facebook, where I am brought down to earth by Number One Daughter's status: I apologised to The Child this morning as Mummy and Daddy had an argument in front of her last night. Her response...'Mum, it's about friendship, love and keeping your trust - you have to be friends.' Such maturity for a five-year-old. So I cuddle up to my big bunny, Mr Grigg. But only after the rabbit has been put in a bag in the freezer. That's abo...

My new kitchen island unit has just arrived. Island? It's more like a small continent. I'm half expecting to find Dr Livingstone in the middle drawer with a large tribe of pygmies in the bottom and Thomas Cook selling tour tickets at the top. I always get the size wrong. A few years ago, seduced by the DFS adverts, I went out looking for a sofa and came back with two huge settees and a large armchair. In the showroom, they looked in proportion. And besides, there was a sale on (is there ever a time when there isn't a sale on at DFS?). Two delivery men and much huffing and puffing, shunting and shoving later, the sofas were sitting opposite each other in my long living room. 'It looks like a railway carriage now,' Mr Grigg said, looking across at me. 'Yes,' I shouted, on the edge of the seat and my feet swinging, not touching the ground. 'And we're The Borrowers.' The only time I had a double wardrobe was for five minutes until the man who made i...