Woog News #3

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Firstly, it must be said, that I very much doubt that there is a family that can beat us in the phlegm and mucus production at present. This particular cold (or flu if you ask Mr. Woog) is very much giving me the irrits. It starts with one side of your throat tickling a little bit, and within the hour your nose and eyes are positively streaming with stuff. Have had to down tools here and there, but I am praying for a bloody Christmas miracle that this pox will leave the house soon.

I have been spending a bit of time going to events called eisteddfods. This is where large groups of children put on an amazing array of dancing. Did you know that eisteddfods, apart from being the hardest word to spell in the english language, were first thought to be held in 1176? Lord Rhys bought together a group of poets and musicians, who gathered at his castle in Cardigan to perform. There, he awarded prizes to whom he deemed to best in all the land.

I am pretty sure Lord Rhys would be rolling in his grave if he saw some of the dances I have seen of late. Little girls dressed up like baby Lolita’s, shaking their body in an insane fashion. But it must be said that some of the performances, as inappropriate as they might have been, where spectacular. So bendy.

And I can bitch and moan about all the rules, all the rehearsals and all the bullshit that goes along with being a dance Mum, but then there is that moment that you get, when your heart bursts open and you think that this just might be the best moment in your life.

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In other news, Chuy has made a full recovery from his surgery and has been put forward to star in a campaign for a cat food brand. The problem is that although he will happily eat creatures of the forest and leftover pizza, he is particularly fussy when it comes to cat food. It is my fault.

You see, he was literally born in a barn and was weaned off his mum onto dog kibble. When I got him as a baby he basically ate everything. But then one day I bought him a can of Fancy Feast, (flaked tuna I believe) and he ate that in 3 seconds before apparently, it changed his palate and now that is the only thing that he will eat. When I try to trick him with lesser fancy food, he looks at me in disgust and I am all like… “You’ve changed..”

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The client in question is NOT Fancy Feast, so we shall see whether that will be successful or not.

Chuy has been on a Fancy Feast Binge, as evident in this photo…

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Anyone for cricket?

I am yet to tell him as his agent, I am taking 100% commission. Bloody Diva!

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In other news, I am delighted to announce a second Escape with Mrs. Woog trip, and she is a beauty! Click HERE for all the details.

Mr. Woog continues to delve into the self-help isle of the bookshop. I had a freaking fit when I spied “Paleo for Dummies” on the coffee table and told him that is he was going to join that cult, we would be getting divorced. But now he has switched tact and is emotionally invested in this book. You can snigger at the author’s name. I did. Because I am apparently 11.

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I will report changes as they occur. I already think he is living this way. 80% of his time is spent gardening and 20% is spent looking at dirt bikes on Gumtree.

We have a fairly quiet weekend facing us, which no doubt we will spend blowing our noses into tissues and opening tins of Fancy Feast.

So that is our news. It is not your traditional news, this column, but as Mike Royko said, “No self-respecting fish would be wrapped in a Murdoch newspaper.”

What’s your news?

Anything to report?