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October 14, 2011


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Many, many years ago I was a nanny to two boys, aged six and eight, the mother of whom was a scary woman who "did it all" except actually show any affection towards her children, the father of whom had run off with the previous nanny. The boys and I had a fine old afternoon one sunny day making mud pies in the garden and I got told off by said mother for indulging in such an unsuitable activity. I left after she accused me of telling her children exactly what activities their father was up to with the ex-nanny when, in fact, she'd frequently alerted them over the tops of their heads. I occasionally wonder how those children turned out and feel guilty that I didn't stick it out and continue to make mud pies with them, albeit in a secret mud pie kitchen.


Thursday - You are so right. Mud pies maketh the man. The mother sounds like she could have done with some too - possibly in the face.


I made a small mud pie yesterday.
In the guise of demonstrating to a contractor with limited English that the soil that he thought was topsoil was actually a nasty mixture of chalk,weeds and modelling clay.
It was probably more of a mud Hobnob than pie but the process was the same.

Good luck with screen free Sunday when it is freezing cold, raining outside and you are recovering from one of your "little episodes" where you get tied to a chair for your own safety.


Indeed, in the face and preferably wash her mouth out with a mud pie for talking over the tops of her childrens heads and believing that they didn't hear her. I snickered on one of my last days tho' - one of the boys crept in to the shed which The Mother had errantly left unlocked, unbeknown to me, took a can of black spray paint and sprayed all the flowers in her garden black. When I asked him why he'd done it, he replied "You don't get really black flowers, I wanted to see what they were like". Fair point.

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